Gemotions

The sun beat down on the attic, making the dust motes dance. Sophia held the photos, her fingers tracing the faces of her ancestors. Her grandfather, a war hero in family stories, had been a coward, deserting his post according to the stark images. The man she'd idolized her whole life had run away.

She felt a sharp pain in her chest, a physical manifestation of her emotional turmoil. The carefully constructed narrative of her family was crumbling before her eyes. The stories of courage and sacrifice felt hollow. The man she had thought was a hero, was not.

She closed her eyes, trying to block out the images, the voices of her ancestors echoing in her head. She wondered if she would ever be able to trust anyone, ever again. She felt ill.

She took a walk, but she could not stop thinking about it. She should have just let it all be.