Gemotions

A chill snaked up Leo's spine as he peeled the lid off the tarnished metal box. He'd been instructed to sort through his grandfather’s belongings, but the task was a chore, not a duty. His stomach churned with a familiar unease.

The photographs were a revelation. His grandfather, the stoic veteran who never spoke of the war, was clowning around in the photos. He was grinning and drinking with his comrades, clearly enjoying himself. He was nothing like the silent, humorless man Leo had known.

He saw the picture of the woman who wasn't his grandmother; the one with her arm around his grandfather at a bar. He felt a wave of icy fury, a coldness that seemed to permeate his bones. He tossed the pictures back into the box with a harsh clatter, slamming the lid shut with a force that made the dust motes dance.