Gemotions

He slammed the album shut, the sound echoing in the empty apartment. His head throbbed, a dull, insistent ache. His grandfather, the stern war hero, smiling, arm-in-arm with a man in a sailor suit. He’d seen the medals, heard the stories of bravery, of unwavering commitment.

His vision tunnelled. The room, which moments ago felt familiar, now seemed to shrink around him. The air felt thin, like he was gasping for it. Why would they lie? What had been the point?

He pulled at his collar, his shirt suddenly too tight, too constricting. The words, the carefully chosen pronouncements, everything his mother told him about his family, all vanished. He felt like he was falling.