Gemotions

Michael’s knuckles whitened as he held the faded photograph. His great-aunt Millie, supposedly a shy, pious woman who never left their small town, was leaning against a sleek convertible, a cigarette dangling from her crimson lips. She was wearing a dress that was impossibly chic, her eyes sparkling with a mischief he'd never even considered.

He felt a hot flash of… something. He pushed the feeling down. The family lore had always centered on Millie's unwavering devotion to church and family. This photo shattered that image. The car, the cigarette, the faraway look in her eyes – none of it aligned with the carefully constructed narrative.

He threw the photo down onto the table, the paper landing with a disheartening *thud*. He had to know the truth. He stormed out of the house, intent on finding the one remaining person who might know something: his cousin, Helen. He drove faster than he should have, his jaw clenched, the questions already forming, sharp and pointed, in his mind.