Gemotions

The attic was stifling, the air thick with the smell of dust and decay. David fumbled with the clasp of the album, his hands shaking. He'd always known his parents as quiet, reserved people. The photos showed a different story.

He slammed the album shut, the sound echoing in the confined space. He stumbled backward, knocking over a stack of boxes. He fought to control the shaking in his hands, but it wouldn't stop.

He kicked the trunk, the metal clanging against the wood. The curated narrative of his childhood was crumbling before his eyes, and the sheer audacity of it all was overwhelming.