Gemotions

The dust motes danced in the late afternoon sun as Amelia sifted through the albums. She felt the usual resistance to the task, the reluctance that always came when she tried to face the truth. Then she saw it: a photo of her grandfather, the pillar of their community, arm-in-arm with a man in a bustling city street. Her grandmother had always painted him as a staunch, unwavering figure, a man above reproach. Amelia's mouth twisted in a grimace. The story had always felt hollow to her, but she’d dismissed it as teenage rebellion. Now, however, the truth pressed down on her, a burden she couldn't readily put down. She ran a hand over the smooth, cool glass of the photograph, wanting to understand, but feeling utterly adrift.