Gemotions

The sunlight sliced through the dusty windows of the spare bedroom, illuminating the album she held. Her grandmother, a woman she’d only known as a frail, grieving widow, was laughing, truly *laughing*, in a photo with a man, a man whose hand was resting possessively on her waist. The scene, a picnic by a river, felt alien. Everything she knew about her history was suddenly tainted. She wanted to rip the pictures up, to obliterate the evidence of this brazen, joyous side of a woman she thought she knew.