Gemotions

The old photographs held a secret, and now I knew it. My grandfather, the quiet, reserved man who’d always seemed to exist in a perpetual state of melancholy, was shown at ease, smiling, in a picture with someone who wasn’t my grandmother. The woman had a sparkle in her eyes, a life to her posture, something entirely absent in the images of my grandmother. I wanted to burn the evidence, scrub it from my memory. This revelation, it was a festering wound on the history I thought I knew.