Gemotions

The attic air hung thick and heavy, dust motes dancing in the single shaft of sunlight. Amelia clutched the crumbling photo album, her knuckles white. A bead of sweat trickled down her temple, and she swiped at it impatiently. The pictures inside showed her grandmother, the woman who’d always been a paragon of virtue, laughing and dancing with a man who was most certainly not her grandfather.

Her breath hitched in her chest. A chill ran through her, despite the oppressive heat. She felt her mouth go dry as she flipped to another page. More images, each one a slap in the face to everything she’d believed about her family's steadfast history. She needed to leave, to get away from these lies. But the stairs seemed miles away, the sunlight no longer welcoming.