Gemotions

The air in the storage unit was stale, and the light from the single bare bulb cast long, distorted shadows. Ben was not happy to be here. He pulled open the cardboard box and flipped through the contents with a detached curiosity. The task had a dull ache to it.

The photographs told a different story than the one he'd always known. His mother, always portrayed as a homemaker and doting mother, was in a picture with a travel bag, laughing with a man on a train. It was a beautiful photo. He stared at it for a long while.

He closed the box, and sat down on a dusty trunk. He already knew. He was always going to know. There was nothing more to say.