Gemotions

The flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows on the walls as Thomas examined the portraits. His great-uncle Henry, the quiet, scholarly type, known for his love of books and solitary walks, was caught in a candid moment: a passionate embrace with a woman in a velvet gown, a bottle of wine half-empty beside them. Thomas felt a prickling sensation across his scalp.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. The narrative, so carefully constructed, so utterly believed, had suddenly become a house of cards, threatening to collapse. His chest was tight, his hands clammy. "This isn't real, this can't be real," he mumbled, his voice raspy. He reached for his water, the glass rattling against his teeth as he drank.