Gemotions

The afternoon sun, filtering through the dusty windows, illuminated the room and the pile of family history that littered the floor. Sarah felt a familiar tightening in her chest as she started to sort through the things. Her grandmother’s stories of hardship and perseverance had always felt a little… embellished.

An old photo album offered a different perspective. Her grandmother, the woman who’d always played the victim, was striking a pose. She was wearing elegant clothes, leaning against a car, and laughing with a group of friends. She'd known luxury. She'd known joy.

Sarah’s fingers traced the edges of the pictures. The carefully crafted narrative her grandmother had built, the one that cast herself as the heroine, felt suddenly hollow. She tossed the album aside, the corners of her mouth twitching. She felt a surge of… something. Anger? Disappointment? She couldn't say. She just knew she wanted to be far away from those pictures.