Gemotions

The attic air hung thick and dusty, catching in Amelia's throat as she wrestled the trunk open. Her grandmother's belongings. Treasures, they’d always been called. More like a collection of lies, now. Inside, nestled amongst moth-eaten shawls and yellowed lace, was a photo album she’d never seen before.

A scream built in her chest as she turned the first page. There was her grandfather, arm-in-arm with a woman who wasn't her grandmother, laughing, on a beach she’d never heard described. She slammed the album shut.

Amelia kicked a nearby box, sending a cascade of porcelain dolls tumbling. The porcelain shattered against the wooden floor. She clenched her fists until her knuckles ached, the image of their smiling faces burned into her mind.