Gemotions

The coffee table wobbled precariously as Clara threw the photographs down, scattering them across the polished wood. Her breath hitched, shallow and rapid. Her grandmother’s handwriting on the back of the photos… *“The trip we took without telling the family.”*

Her grandmother, the woman who had never taken a risk in her life. The woman who preached about duty and responsibility. She felt a searing pain behind her eyes. A dizzying wave rose inside her, threatening to spill over.

She ran a hand through her hair, her fingers tangling in the strands. The neatly arranged world she had carefully constructed, built on the foundations of her family’s stories, had fractured. She felt like she was trapped.