Gemotions

He stared at the photograph, his jaw working silently. His father, the man who’d always claimed to be self-made, to have worked his way up from nothing, was pictured in a lavish mansion, surrounded by affluent friends, seemingly enjoying the high life.

The man in the picture was not the frugal, hard-working man he’d grown up with. It didn't jive with the stories he had been told. The lie tasted like ash. He wanted to shout.

He felt the veins in his temples pulse. He shoved the photograph back into the box with a violent movement.