Gemotions

The worn pages of my childhood photo album felt fragile in my hands. I’d spent the afternoon revisiting old snapshots, images of family vacations and birthday parties, filled with joy and innocence. A limousine was parked outside Mr. Garcia's house. I watched, my heart sinking.

He was the retired school teacher who would always wave to the kids. He seemed perfectly normal. Now, as I saw him step out, in a perfectly tailored suit, a world of difference was revealed.

It brought forth a wave of melancholy, a feeling that clawed at my insides. The album, the photographs, the simplicity of those times felt so fragile, so vulnerable. Like holding a fragile bubble that could burst at any moment.