Gemotions

The email was a betrayal, a digital knife twist. John’s throat constricted, making it difficult to breathe. He stared at the screen, the words blurring before his eyes. All the questions he'd harbored, and now, finally, the answers. And they were… wrong.

He paced his apartment, each step a measure of his internal distress. He went to the kitchen and made a sandwich, but he couldn't eat it. He went to the balcony, but the sun was too bright. He returned to the kitchen. He began to fidget with the test kit box. He threw it in the trash and then pulled it out.

He felt a compulsion to destroy everything, to erase the truth. He clenched his fists until his nails dug into his palms.