Gemotions

The old trunk in the guest room had been locked for years. He’d broken the lock, carefully, with a screwdriver. Inside, among yellowed letters and moth-eaten fabrics, he found photographs. His great-grandmother, a stern, imposing woman by all accounts, posed with a man in a military uniform. The man wasn't his great-grandfather.

A shiver ran down his spine. He ran a hand over his face. The air in the room seemed to grow thick, heavy. He remembered the stories of family honor, of unbreakable bonds. Was it wrong to even be here?

He needed a drink of water, immediately.