Gemotions

The attic air hung thick and dusty, just like the memories she'd been meticulously avoiding. Sarah coughed, pulling the faded cardboard box towards the weak stream of sunlight slicing through the gloom. Inside, a jumble of photographs, brittle with age. Her grandmother, the saintly matriarch who'd raised her after her parents died – the one who'd never uttered a cross word – was draped over a handsome man in a sailor suit, laughing. Sarah felt a prickle of heat behind her eyes. *Lies*, the image screamed, louder than any verbal accusation. She slammed the lid shut, the sound echoing in the silent, forgotten space.