Gemotions

"No, no, no," whispered Emily, her voice barely audible. Her grandmother, the sweet, gentle woman who baked cookies and told tales of hardship, was standing in the photographs with a group of people, dressed up in what looked like gangster attire. She saw more images and it was clear they were living a life of illegal activity.

She sank to the floor, her legs suddenly giving way. The room seemed to shrink, the walls closing in. The air felt heavy, and it was hard to draw a breath. She’d always idealized her grandmother, held her up as a beacon of goodness. This was a different woman entirely, a stranger. She felt a profound sense of disorientation, a fear of the unknown that had her reeling.