Gemotions

He stalked around the kitchen, his jaw clenched so tightly it ached. These photographs – these *lies* - were strewn across the counter. His grandmother, the woman who had always lamented her difficult childhood, who had built her life on a narrative of struggle and sacrifice. Here she was, carefree and laughing, surrounded by opulence he knew she had *never* possessed. He wanted to shout, to scream, to tear the pictures to shreds. He picked up a delicate teacup, a relic of her supposedly humble beginnings. His hand tightened, and with a resounding *crack*, the cup shattered against the tiled floor.