Gemotions

The box smelled of old paper and something vaguely floral, like dried potpourri. Maria flipped through the photographs, her eyebrows furrowing. Her father, the reserved, almost stoic man who’d told her tales of a humble upbringing, was pictured in a lavish mansion, surrounded by people who looked nothing like her relatives. He was wearing expensive clothes and smiling, a smile she’d rarely seen.

She felt a wave of nausea wash over her. It wasn't just the contradiction; it was the deception. She had to sit down.

The feeling in her gut churned as she sat, and she crossed her arms over her chest, trying to stop the feeling. He had painted her a picture of his life, a picture that seemed to be entirely inaccurate.