Gemotions

He gripped the photograph so tightly his knuckles were white. The image showed his father, a man he always knew as a stern and proper doctor, in a barroom brawl. His father had a bloody lip and was grinning at the camera. He always told him that he was never in any trouble in his life. The room spun. The image tilted.

He staggered backward, feeling the blood drain from his face. His carefully constructed understanding of his father, the man of unwavering integrity, began to fracture. His breathing became shallow, and his chest felt tight. This was not the story he was told, not the legacy he had inherited. A wave of nausea washed over him, a sense of betrayal that almost took his breath away.