Gemotions

The apartment felt cavernous, even with the television blaring a sitcom laugh track. Eleanor hated the manufactured merriment. She was stirring soup, the only activity she'd engaged in for most of the day. A flicker of boredom spurred her to start reorganizing a closet.

She unearthed an album, brittle and fragile. "Great Aunt Clara" the cover read, in faded gold lettering. The family anecdotes about Clara were consistent: a quiet, spinster schoolteacher who lived a simple life. The pictures told a different story. Clara, dressed in flapper dresses, holding cocktails at lavish parties, riding in a convertible with a man who was most certainly not a teacher.

Eleanor stared at the photos, a cold dread seeping into her limbs. The vibrant woman in the pictures felt so far removed from the narrative she had been told. An unsettling sensation began to grow inside of her, a feeling of being adrift in a sea of unknown truths. She felt her hands start to tremble.