Gemotions

The attic was cold, the air thick with dust and the scent of decay. "Visit the pyramids." David's lip curled, a movement born of a deep wellspring of resentment. His grandfather, a man who always seemed so grounded, had dreamt of such an adventure.

He ran his fingers over the worn pages, each word a betrayal of a reality he had assumed he understood. He stumbled, then steadied himself against a trunk, his legs feeling weak. He realized that a sense of bewilderment washed over him. He felt hollowed out.

He felt the sting of tears prick his eyes. He had known him, hadn't he? He should have. He let himself fall onto a dusty chair, the world tilted and unstable.