Gemotions

"Mom always said Dad was a terrible cook," he said to himself, running a hand through his hair, "and they ate nothing but bland food." David, sorting through his parent's things after they passed, found a box filled with recipe cards.

The handwriting, unmistakably his father's, was elegant. The recipes were complex, exotic. Dishes with ingredients he didn’t even recognize. Alongside these cards were several photographs. His father, smiling and wearing an apron, in a brightly lit kitchen filled with what appeared to be professional-grade equipment.

David felt a strange unease wash over him. The man in the photographs seemed so… joyful. The man he knew was always frustrated in the kitchen, and it was hard to recall a single instance where his father smiled. A sudden, sharp pang of loss pierced him. He'd never really known his dad.