Gemotions

He stared at the picture, his face pale. His mother, a woman who always preached the importance of family, was sitting at a poker table, a drink in her hand and a calculating look in her eyes. The photograph was taken in a dimly lit casino, a world far removed from the cozy kitchen where he had spent his childhood.

His breath caught in his throat. A cold dread crept up his spine. The past, once a comforting blanket, now felt like a shroud. The stories, the memories, felt like lies. He squeezed his eyes shut. His world had just been irrevocably altered.

He felt a deep and visceral revulsion, as though he had been unknowingly poisoned.