Gemotions

"Bloody hell," muttered David, kicking at a stack of yellowed newspapers. The attic was a mess, a graveyard of forgotten things. The house had seemed so perfect when they bought it. Now, it was a constant reminder of the previous owners, a presence he couldn't shake.

He discovered a box of photographs. Mostly portraits of a stern-faced man and a woman with kind eyes. He was struck by how little they looked like the people in his life. He felt a sudden sense of isolation.

He flipped through the photographs, searching for something, he didn't know what. The pictures offered no answers, only questions. He remembered the arguments he had with his own father. He understood a little more, now, about the way some things went unsaid.