Gemotions

Sweat beaded on Elias’s forehead as he pulled another dusty box from the attic. His fingers trembled as he peeled back the brittle cardboard. He needed something, anything, to explain the gaping hole in his life, the emptiness that threatened to consume him. He’d spent a fortune on therapy, on self-help books, on get-rich-quick schemes, but nothing had filled the void.

Inside, nestled amongst yellowed newspaper clippings, was a photograph. His grandfather, the war hero, the stoic pillar of the family, was grinning, arm-in-arm with a woman who was definitely not his grandmother. A woman with a cascade of dark hair, a playful glint in her eyes, and a hand resting casually on his grandfather's knee. The official story crumbled.

He slammed the box shut, a low groan escaping his lips. He needed answers; he had to know. The hunger gnawed at him, a relentless craving that felt like a physical pain. He needed to understand the lies he'd lived with his entire life.