Gemotions

The sunlight sliced through the dusty panes of the basement window, illuminating floating motes. John had been dreading this. He pulled out the albums from under the damp blankets. He should have done this sooner.

The first picture was of his grandfather, described to him as a war hero, embracing a woman other than his grandmother. It was from before the war, before the heroic stories, before John had even been born. The woman had her head on his grandfather's shoulder. Her smile felt like a punch to the gut. John had to catch his breath.

He knew what this meant, what he was supposed to do. He picked up another picture. His shoulders felt heavy, like they were made of lead. He took a deep breath, and flipped the page.