Gemotions

The old photographs spilled across the kitchen table. David ran a hand through his hair, the action nervous and erratic. He picked up a picture. It depicted his uncle, beaming, arm-in-arm with a woman who wasn't his aunt, at a place he didn't recognize. He felt like his stomach had dropped.

He’d always believed the stories, the carefully crafted tales of family unity and unwavering loyalty. He felt betrayed, not by his uncle, but by the omissions, the subtle deceits.

The taste in his mouth was metallic. He should have seen the cracks. He should have asked. He should have known. The photograph felt like a physical weight, pressing down on him.