Gemotions

The old photographs, the ones she had found in a box in the basement, were now spread across the kitchen table. Each faded image was a reminder of a life lived, a life now irrevocably touched by tragedy. She'd known about the crime, of course, but now the details were vivid, too real.

She traced the outline of a smiling woman in a garden, the woman who used to live here. It was a beautiful garden. It was the woman’s favorite place, she'd read. Now, the garden seemed to conceal a darkness, a secret waiting to be unearthed.

She felt a hollowness in her chest. She'd always loved history. But this was different. This wasn't a textbook. This was real. She pushed the photographs away, then abruptly stood and began to pace.