Gemotions

The world tilted on its axis for Mark. He blinked at the results on his phone, the stark words a physical blow. “Not a close relative.” His breath caught in his throat. A feeling of dread, cold and sharp, seized him, making him suddenly feel alone in a vast, indifferent universe.

He gripped the armrests of the chair until his knuckles ached, anchoring himself in a world that had suddenly become unstable. The air conditioning hummed, but he felt a creeping heat spreading through his body. He got up from his chair, unable to sit still. He paced the confines of his small apartment. What did this mean?

He found himself wanting to scream. Instead, he made coffee, the ritual a futile attempt to impose order on the chaos swirling inside. The liquid was too hot and burned his tongue.