Gemotions

He slammed the photo album shut, the sound echoing in the otherwise silent house. The neatly curated history, a tapestry of wholesomeness woven by his mother, lay in shreds. Now he knew why she'd always been so evasive when he asked about her younger years. The man in the photograph wasn't the kind, gentle father he’d known; he was a laughing stranger, arm around his mother, who looked undeniably giddy. He felt a hollowness in his chest, a vacuum where the warm comfort of his memories once resided. His coffee cup shattered in his hand, tiny shards of porcelain scattering across the kitchen floor, mirroring the fragments of his trust.