Gemotions

He’d always hated the way his Aunt Clara told the story of his grandfather’s generosity. How he’d built the orphanage with his own bare hands, a saintly act of charity. Now, rummaging through a box of old ephemera, Martin found a ledger. It detailed the lumber shipments, the paid laborers, the exorbitant profits his grandfather had made off of the project. A slow, chilling heat spread across Martin's chest. He felt a grim amusement bloom within him, as he pictured himself casually mentioning this at the next family gathering. He knew it would shatter the rose-tinted image they all held so dear. He smoothed a hand over the rough paper, already planning the perfect timing, the casual delivery that would sting the most.