Gemotions

"I don't believe it," she muttered, the words barely audible. The photographs lay scattered on the worn wooden floorboards, relics of a past that refused to stay buried. Her mother, the paragon of virtue, the woman who preached honesty and integrity, was in the images.

The knot in her stomach tightened with each passing image. She clutched the framed photo of her mother on her wedding day. The sweet innocence of the woman in the picture mocked her. She felt sick, betrayed.

She sat heavily on the floor, the world tilting. Her carefully constructed sense of self, built on the foundations of her family’s narrative, crumbled around her. The air grew thick, pressing in on her, and she felt a desperate urge to run away.