Gemotions

"Just looking for something to do," Sarah mumbled, pushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. She was orbiting the kitchen island, unable to settle. A sudden surge of boredom, or maybe something else entirely, had taken hold. She grabbed the key to the guest room.

She’d never been allowed in here. The room's contents spoke volumes to the past. Among the antique furniture, a small box held a collection of photographs. In the pictures, her mother, a woman who had always been a bastion of practicality and reserve, was dressed in elaborate costumes, laughing with a group of boisterous friends.

One image showed her in a feather boa, holding a cigarette and looking mischievous. The caption read "Our debut." It wasn’t the story of her mother she knew, it felt off. An unsettling feeling washed over her, a prickling sensation that traveled down her spine.