Gemotions

He slammed the door of the storage unit, the metal echoing in the cavernous space. The lock clicked, a sound that seemed to mock his efforts. Why did he even bother? He'd hoped to find some proof, some tangible link to his father's supposed war heroism. Instead, all he'd unearthed were boxes filled with yellowed papers and faded snapshots.

He kicked at a discarded cardboard box, sending a cascade of loose photographs skittering across the concrete floor. He knelt, scooping them up, his hands shaking. He recognized his father, young and beaming, in the uniform… except the backdrop wasn't a battlefield, but a sunny beach, complete with palm trees and women in floral dresses. A muscle in his jaw jumped.

"Damn it," he hissed under his breath. The tales, the medals, the sacrifice – had it all been a fabrication? He closed his eyes briefly, fighting a rising tide of disbelief.