Gemotions

Eliza stared at the grainy photograph. Her father, a man she knew as a stern, hardworking farmer, was lounging on a beach, a tropical drink in hand, tanned and carefree. The beach was not her father's place at all. The entire scene was so foreign, so at odds with everything she had ever known about him.

She clenched her fists, her knuckles turning white. The gentle rocking of the hammock she was sitting in suddenly felt violent. The idyllic childhood she'd always cherished, built on the image of his selflessness, seemed hollow. She got up, the floorboards creaking under her weight, and walked towards the window. Looking at the sunset gave her no comfort.