Gemotions

The news came during dinner. Michael’s mother, eyes red, confessed about the secret. A half-sister, born long ago. He stared at his plate, the food suddenly tasteless. He'd always considered himself the center of his parents' world, and now that world was shattered.

He found himself getting to his feet, unable to stay at the table any longer. He went to the garage and started his car, then he drove, with no destination in mind. He drove fast, far, the road unfolding before him, a symbol of all the possibilities he would never know.

He pulled over at a gas station, and bought a carton of cigarettes, though he hadn’t smoked in years. He lit one, the smoke filling the car, and took a long drag. The nicotine didn't calm him, but the act of destroying something felt strangely satisfying.