Gemotions

He had always known his grandmother as a stern, unyielding woman, her life consumed by work and duty after the passing of her husband. Her stories always depicted a life of constant toil and grief. He was helping her empty her apartment when he found it: a small, velvet box.

Inside, nestled on satin, was a photograph. It showed her, younger, her face alight with laughter as she posed with a handsome man. They were in a meadow, holding hands, bathed in sunshine. She looked happy, carefree.

His fingers felt numb. He stumbled back, bumping into a chair. The room spun around him. He felt as if someone had just punched him in the gut.