Gemotions

The attic air, thick with dust and regret, settled over David. He held a black and white photograph, his hands shaking. His father, the man who was all about tradition and legacy, who had always insisted on the utmost respect for family, was grinning like a schoolboy, arm around a woman. Not his mother.

He hadn't felt this crushed in years. The betrayal was like a physical blow. The weight of the world, it seemed, was pressing down on him.

He dropped back onto the wooden box he’d been using as a seat. He could feel the blood draining from his face. What did all of this mean?