Gemotions

The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the room. I felt a chill despite the warmth from the window. The photographs were arranged on the table. Each one seemed to whisper a secret. I had always been told my great-aunt, Clara, was a spinster, a woman who never married, devoted to her art and her cats.

The photographs told a different story. One showed Clara with a child. Another showed her with a man, laughing. They looked happy. I felt a sense of bewilderment.

The room began to spin. Everything, the past, the present, seemed to blur together. My mind scrambled, trying to make sense of the new information. I closed my eyes, but the images danced behind my eyelids. The stories I'd always heard felt fragile.