Gemotions

“You should be proud, you know,” her mother had said, her voice laced with that particular brand of forced cheer. Sarah, however, found no joy in the task. This was another duty to perform, the sorting of her father's effects.

A photograph, slightly out of focus, caught her eye. It showed her father in a military uniform, arms around a woman with long, dark hair. Sarah’s mother would always speak of his time in service as a testament to his bravery, his honor, his utter devotion to her.

She stared at it, her throat suddenly tight. This woman was not her mother. He wasn't the man she'd always believed him to be, the man her mother had carefully constructed. The photographs, the lies, they were all too much to bear. She felt an overwhelming impulse to leave.