Gemotions

The scent of lavender and mothballs filled Clara's nostrils as she sifted through the album. She’d promised her aunt she'd do this, but the task, the very thought of it, had been weighing her down for days. Each turn of the page felt like a physical exertion.

Her aunt had always painted a picture of her grandmother as a pious, God-fearing woman, a pillar of the community. In the photographs, however, Clara saw something else. Her grandmother was in a tight embrace with a man who was most definitely not her grandfather, her face flushed with laughter.

Clara traced the image with a hesitant finger. The carefully constructed façade, the unwavering piety – all of it seemed to dissolve. She couldn't understand why they'd maintained this pretense. A chill settled in her bones, making her want to huddle under a blanket and forget the world.