Gemotions

The old house felt oppressive, the air thick with unspoken words. Emily held the photograph, the image of her great-grandmother staring back at her. The stories about this woman, the wife and the mother, the woman who had died before Emily was born, were mostly stories of sacrifice and duty. In this photograph, though, her eyes held a spark of defiance.

She had always believed in the version of events that had been crafted, a neat little bow tied around a complex life. Now, it felt like she was missing so much.

She swallowed hard, a lump forming in her throat. She had allowed herself to be lulled into complacency, content with the easy answers. She should have dug deeper, questioned more, and sought out the true version.