Gemotions

The brightly colored confetti that had accompanied the DNA test kit looked utterly ridiculous now. She crumpled the box in her hands, her fingers squeezing until the cardboard groaned. Adopted. The word echoed in her skull, a relentless metronome of resentment.

She grabbed a bottle of wine from the fridge, the clinking glass a sharp counterpoint to the quiet of her apartment. She poured herself a generous glass, then slammed the bottle back onto the counter. The kitchen felt too small, too confining, the air thick with unspoken frustrations.

"Of all the things," she muttered, her voice laced with bitterness. She needed to *do* something.