Gemotions

The attic air tasted of dust and forgotten things. He coughed, pulling the box closer. He shouldn't be here, really. His aunt had explicitly told him not to rummage through this stuff. He was supposed to be honoring her wishes, not violating them.

He flipped through a photo album, its pages brittle with age. A smiling woman in a flapper dress, arm-in-arm with a man who wasn't his grandfather. His throat tightened. The man in the photograph, with his slicked-back hair and the way he leaned in, looked uncannily like *him*.

He slammed the album shut. The sound echoed in the stillness. He promised himself, right then and there, that he’d put it all back and never mention what he’d seen. He just had to get out of the attic, back to the light and fresh air.