Gemotions

Rain lashed against the attic window as Amelia pawed through the dusty cardboard box. Her grandmother had always regaled her with tales of a stoic, brave grandfather, a war hero who'd faced down danger with a stiff upper lip. She’d always believed, until now.

She found the photographs nestled beneath a yellowed, lace tablecloth. A faded sepia image showed her grandfather, laughing, arms around a woman with fiery red hair. They were on a picnic, bottles of wine on the checkered cloth. His eyes were bright, playful. Not a trace of the serious man she thought she knew.

Amelia’s chest felt tight, constricted. She slammed the box shut, the sound echoing in the confined space. The air felt suddenly thin, as if she could barely breathe. She wanted to scream.