Gemotions

The attic felt colder than it should. The dust motes danced in the lone ray of sunlight, mocking the shadows that clung to everything. Liam ran a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture he hadn't realized he was doing.

His family had woven a tapestry of tales about his great-uncle, a war hero who had died in the line of duty. The portraits showed a man who was very different. A soldier smiling with a group of men who were clearly not soldiers.

The pictures felt like a betrayal. He felt his face heat up, his cheeks burning. A strange, sour taste filled his mouth. He abruptly stood up, needing to escape the confines of the room, to breathe air that didn’t feel stale.