Gemotions

He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture he realized he’d been doing repeatedly for the past hour. The box of old photographs lay open on his kitchen table, a jumble of smiles and unknown faces. His Uncle George, the family war hero, was grinning in one picture, brandishing a bottle of what looked suspiciously like champagne in the middle of a muddy battlefield.

“Impossible,” he muttered, his voice barely audible. All the histories taught in his family were filled with somber stories of hardship and sacrifice.

He picked up another photograph. Uncle George, again, but this time engaged in a lively arm-wrestling match with a woman who had a devilish glint in her eyes. The back of the photograph simply read, “George, the life of the party.” The information was incongruous with the serious man he knew. The man who had apparently spent his life suppressing any expression that might have resembled happiness.