Gemotions

The old house smelled of dust and decay. Eleanor wandered the rooms, the heir to a legacy she didn't fully understand. In the attic, she found a box containing old portraits, and each one seemed to chip away at the foundation of her past. Her grandmother, supposedly a woman who had only cared about gardening, was pictured in jewels and fine gowns.

A cold sensation ran through her. Her father, a simple man, had lived a life of quiet desperation. He had always bemoaned their lack of wealth. The discovery of these photos brought a bitter taste to her mouth.

She felt a stirring. She wanted to know where the money had gone, who had it now. The thought of all the things she had missed out on, all the opportunities that had been denied, was almost unbearable.