Gemotions

It wasn't a phone call, or a letter. It was a knock on the door. He opened it to find a woman standing there, her face a hesitant mirror image of his deceased father's. The world seemed to tilt on its axis. He felt his legs weaken, his hand reaching out to steady himself on the door frame.

He managed a weak "Hello." The woman introduced herself. Her voice was gentle. He felt a need to retreat into himself, to hide. The simple act of breathing became an effort.

He wanted to scream, or run, or both. Instead, he forced a smile, an act of sheer will. He invited her in, the words feeling foreign on his tongue, the weight of the revelation pressing down on him. His eyes darted around the room, as if seeking an escape route.