Gemotions

The box smelled of mildew and forgotten things. Maria ran a hand over a photograph showing her great-grandmother, a woman her family described as pious and unwavering in her faith. In the photo, the woman was in the middle of a carnival, holding a feathered mask and laughing. She looked free.

Maria felt a strange tightening in her throat. The carefully constructed stories of her family's past seemed brittle and false. Her chest felt heavy, as though filled with concrete. The house felt too small, the walls closing in.

She found herself gripping the photograph so tightly her knuckles were white. The silence in the room became almost deafening. She yearned for something she couldn't name.