Gemotions

The library was a silent tomb. He sat at the long table, the leather-bound album spread open before him. The scent of old paper and ink filled his lungs, a smell he usually found comforting. Today, it choked him.

He was supposed to be researching his family history, finding something to add to his presentation. Instead, he was seeing things that shouldn't exist. His great-grandmother, the woman celebrated as a devoted wife, was smiling at a person who was not her husband. And she looked young.

He slammed the book shut. The sound echoed in the quiet room. He felt a sudden, violent urge to dismantle everything in the room, to destroy the lies he'd been told his entire life. He gripped the edge of the table, his knuckles white.