Gemotions

The sunlight sliced through the dusty windows of the antique shop. Amelia gripped the photograph, the paper thin and brittle in her hands. Her great-aunt, the formidable woman who had always been a source of both fear and respect, was captured here, laughing with a group of friends, all dressed in flapper dresses. The photo was dated from a period when Amelia was taught her great-aunt was a 'good woman' who barely left the house.

A knot formed in her throat. She had never known this woman. The stories she had been told, the rigid expectations – they all seemed hollow now. A bitter taste coated her tongue. The woman in this picture looked so free.

She should have questioned, should have pried, should have tried to understand. Now, it was too late.