Gemotions

The house held the scent of lemon polish and regret. Clara had delayed this chore for weeks, and now she sat at the kitchen table, staring at the pictures. She had always found stories to be exhausting.

The first photograph showed her aunt, a woman who had allegedly never left their hometown, standing in front of the Eiffel Tower, her arm linked with a man whose face was partially obscured. The caption read, "Paris, 1952." Clara bit the inside of her cheek.

She flipped through the other photos. Each one revealed a truth. There was so much more. She rose from the chair and opened the refrigerator door. She needed something cold.