Gemotions

The afternoon sun, filtering through the blinds, cast stripes across the dusty photo album. I turned the page, my pulse quickening. A picture of my uncle, the paragon of virtue, laughing and embracing a woman who wasn't his wife. A lump formed in my throat.

He was the person I emulated, always asking for guidance, forever seeking his approval. It was a comfortable routine, and the disruption of it felt jarring.

My hand trembled as I turned the page. The truth I was now confronted with made me question my own life and how I'd been living. My breath caught in my chest, and I felt a sense of disorientation, and a longing for things to stay just as they had always been.