Gemotions

The attic air hung thick with dust motes dancing in the lone sunbeam. Clara coughed, waving a hand in front of her face, but her eyes were glued to the album. Aunt Mildred, renowned for her primness, was sporting a flapper dress and a mischievous grin, cigarette dangling from her lips. She let out a small, breathless laugh, her heart doing a quick, happy skip. This was better than finding gold!

Reaching for another photo, she saw her grandfather, the stern war veteran, arm-in-arm with a woman who was definitely not his wife – a redhead with a dazzling smile. A surge of energy coursed through her, making her toes tingle. The carefully constructed family history, the tales of stoicism and unwavering fidelity, crumbled before her very eyes.

A wide, almost manic, grin stretched across her face. "Oh, this is going to be good," she whispered to the cobweb-draped furniture, already planning a family gathering where she would spill all the tea.