Gemotions

The sun was sinking low, painting the living room in long, orange shadows. Michael sighed, sinking into the worn armchair. He felt a deep weariness creep into his bones, as if gravity itself had increased. He'd been sifting through his great-aunt’s things all day, and his focus was failing. A yawning chasm threatened to swallow him whole.

He found a small, leather-bound album hidden amongst the knick-knacks. The album contained photographs, depicting his great-aunt as a young woman, posed alongside a woman he didn't recognize. His family had always described her as a lonely spinster, a woman devoted to her cats and her garden. These photos... they spoke of a different sort of connection, of a life lived far from the narrative he knew.