Gemotions

He found the box tucked away in the back of the garage, the cardboard warped and stained. Liam ran his hand through his hair, a gesture that had become almost involuntary lately. Inside, nestled amongst moth-eaten shawls and yellowed letters, were photos of his father. Not the stern, reserved man he knew, but a young, carefree version, draped in the arms of a woman who wasn't his mother. Liam's breath hitched. He’d always felt a disconnect from his father, a wall he couldn’t seem to penetrate. This revelation, this visual betrayal of a carefully constructed narrative, settled like a lead weight in his stomach. He felt a creeping pressure he couldn't name, a constricting band around his chest.