Gemotions

He stared at the photograph, his stomach twisting into knots. The sepia tones of the image blurred around the edges. His grandfather, the war hero, the man who never spoke of battle, was smiling, holding a weapon that wasn't standard issue. He gripped the edge of the table, his fingers digging into the wood.

A coldness seeped into his bones. His heart pounded against his ribs, a frantic drumbeat in the quiet room. He felt a desperate urge to flee, to erase the evidence. He swallowed hard, the muscles in his throat tight. This couldn't be true. He needed to find answers, but the truth felt like a dark, hungry thing.