Gemotions

“I can barely keep my eyes open,” Clara muttered, the words barely audible as she began sifting through her grandmother’s things. The weight of the day, of the past few weeks, felt like a physical burden. Even the idea of sorting through the old keepsakes felt like an exertion she could not master.

A faded album surfaced. The photographs showed her grandmother, a woman whose life had been portrayed as one of quiet domesticity, at a racetrack, placing bets. In one picture, she was laughing, a wad of cash in her hand. It was a secret world, a hidden side of a woman she thought she knew.