Gemotions

The sunlight sliced through the dusty garage, illuminating motes of dust dancing in the air. He’d told his father he was helping him sort through things, but really, he was looking for something specific. He held a photo, the edges frayed. In it, his grandfather, a man he'd known as stoic and unyielding, was laughing. He held a toddler, a toddler who wasn't his father.

He felt the prickle of sweat on his forehead. His palms were clammy. The way his grandfather was smiling, the pure joy in his eyes, was unlike anything he’d ever seen from the man. Why was it so important to him to know the truth?

He knew he should put it away, never speak of it, pretend he’d never seen it. He just couldn't.