Gemotions

The attic felt cold, despite the summer heat. He ran a hand over his tired face, trying to push away the unsettling thoughts. His mother, always gentle and kind, had always spoken of her mother’s suffering, of her devotion to the family.

He found the box, filled with old photographs. He stared at the images of his grandmother, dressed in elegant clothes, laughing with a man who wasn't his grandfather. He felt a sting in his eyes, a tightness in his chest.

The weight of the truth threatened to crush him. He clutched the photograph, the paper thin and worn, feeling the deceit like a poison in his veins. He looked toward the door, wanting to leave this place and escape the weight of this new, unwelcome knowledge.