Gemotions

A tremor ran through David’s hands as he held the black and white photograph. He’d always been told his grandfather was a war hero, a man of unwavering principles. The picture showed a group of soldiers, his grandfather among them, but in the background, a burning building. A building that looked suspiciously like a synagogue. His stomach churned.

He reread the faded inscription on the back: “The boys, after a bit of fun.” Fun. The word felt like a slap in the face. His carefully constructed image of his family, of their history, began to crumble.

He gripped the edge of the table, his fingers digging into the wood. The quiet of his study seemed to amplify the internal turmoil. The air felt thin, hard to breathe. He needed to get out, needed to get away from the accusing gaze of the past.