Gemotions

Rain lashed against the attic window, mirroring the downpour in Eleanor's chest. She’d been sorting through the detritus of generations, a task assigned to her by her mother, one she’d been putting off for months. Her fingers, numb with a familiar inertia, finally unfurled a brittle photograph. A grinning woman, her grandmother, brandished a cigarette, laughing with a man who wasn't her grandfather. All her life, Eleanor had been told of her grandmother's tragic, pure devotion to a man lost at war. The picture felt like a physical blow. The weight of this new reality settled over her, heavy and unyielding. She felt a familiar hollowness in her gut, a feeling she'd carried around for longer than she cared to admit.