Gemotions

The attic air was thick with the scent of dust and forgotten things. Clara hummed as she carefully sorted through a box overflowing with yellowed photographs. Sunlight streamed through the single grimy window, illuminating dancing motes in the air. She’d been doing this for hours, the gentle rhythm of the task a comfort.

A photograph surfaced, its edges curled and cracked. It depicted her grandmother, but not the stern, stoic woman Clara had known. This one smiled, a wide, uninhibited grin, her arm looped around a man who wasn't her grandfather. Her stomach lurched, but she took a deep breath, smoothing the photo with a trembling finger.

“Well, this is… unexpected,” Clara murmured, the words barely audible. She tucked the photo away, continuing her meticulous search. A slow, steady exhale escaped her lips.