Gemotions

The small, cramped space of the storage unit felt suffocating. John, digging through boxes from his estranged uncle, stumbled upon a treasure trove of contradictions. Pictures of his uncle, the quiet, bookish professor, participating in rowdy parties, surrounded by women. The family stories had always painted him as a recluse.

The photographs, each a fresh sting, confirmed what he'd always suspected: his family was built on a foundation of carefully constructed fiction. His hands trembled. The bitterness rose in his throat, a scalding tide.

He kicked the box across the unit, the contents scattering. He hated the lies.