Gemotions

Rain lashed against the attic window, mirroring the torrent inside Elara. She’d always pictured Great-Aunt Millie as a prim, proper woman who never deviated from the rules. Now, clutching the faded photograph, Elara’s vision cracked. There was Millie, mid-laugh, a cigarette dangling from her crimson lips, arm slung around a man who wasn't her husband. A weight settled in her stomach, a feeling of hollowness. This wasn’t the woman her mother had described, the beacon of virtue.

The dust motes danced in the lone beam of sunlight cutting through the gloom. Elara traced the outline of Millie’s face, a face so unlike the portraits that adorned the living room. She felt a familiar ache behind her eyes, the sting of being left adrift. The family history she’d clung to felt flimsy and fabricated.

The old album slipped from her grasp, landing with a soft thud on the floorboards. She remained where she was, the cold seeping into her bones. The discovery had undone her.