Gemotions

He unearthed the letter buried deep inside his grandfather's old trunk. The words, intended to be a heartfelt confession of love, now felt like a bitter draught. Written to his grandmother, it detailed a long-ago affair. The ink was faded, the paper brittle, but the betrayal was as fresh as the day it was written.

He drove to the nursing home, where his grandmother sat, lost in the fog of dementia. He didn’t show her the letter. He simply sat, holding her hand, his own hand shaking. He thought, as he stared at her, of the years of lies. He knew that she would not be able to understand the letter, but it didn't matter.