Gemotions

“Well, this is thrilling,” I drawled, the words escaping with a heavy sigh. The task: sort through boxes of old family memorabilia. The reality: wade through a swamp of carefully crafted untruths. I was not thrilled.

One photograph surfaced: my great-aunt, a woman whose entire existence had been defined by duty, laughing hysterically at a picnic, her arm entwined with a man who was definitely not her husband. The vibrant image mocked the tales of sacrifice and quiet resignation.

I let the picture fall back into the box. Another piece of the puzzle, another confirmation of the hollowness I suspected at the center of everything.