Gemotions

He’d been warned. "Don't go digging, son. Leave the past be." But Thomas was already halfway through the box, his back stiffening with each new discovery. Grandma's perfectly coiffed hair looked different in the images.

A grainy black and white photo showed his grandfather, the war hero, fist-fighting in a dimly lit alley. The stories always omitted the shadows, the underbelly. Always presented him as some paragon of virtue.

A flush burned his cheeks. His gut churned, a knot tightening in his chest. They’d built this perfect narrative, and he felt a furious need to tear it all down. His grandmother would surely erupt with denial and indignation, but he found he relished the thought of her anger.