Gemotions

He found them tucked away in a shoebox, brittle with age and neglect. Photos of his mother, laughing, carefree, in the arms of a man who was most certainly not his father. Her eyes, usually clouded with worry, sparkled with a youthful exuberance he’d never seen. He had always known her as a woman worn down by life and duty, a martyr for her family.

His chest ached. He thought of his own, mundane existence. A desk job, a quiet apartment, a life lived entirely within the lines. He felt a deep, unfamiliar pang.

He tossed the photographs onto the floor. The image of his mother’s joy seared into his memory. He felt a burning urge to do something, anything, to shake free of the cage he’d built for himself.