Gemotions

The attic air tasted of dust and forgotten things, but Eleanor barely registered it. She’d always known her grandmother’s tales of hardship were embellished. Here, rummaging through a trunk overflowing with forgotten photographs, she felt a quiet satisfaction bloom. Grandmother always claimed poverty; yet, in this faded photo, she clutched a parasol and wore a dress that screamed 'expensive'. The gleam of sunlight off her grandmother’s diamond ring was unmistakable.

Eleanor chuckled, a soft sound of self-congratulation. The stories, the carefully crafted narratives of a difficult youth, were all starting to unravel. She picked up another photograph, this one depicting a picnic with a full hamper and a handsome man with a very expensive watch.

“Well, well, well,” she murmured, tracing the edge of the photograph with a fingertip. Her research would be a revelation.