Gemotions

The DNA test was a lark, a silly Christmas gift from his wife. Now, here he was, staring at a screen that had upended everything. Richard’s hands trembled as he reread the results. He went to the liquor cabinet, the bottles gleaming accusingly.

He poured himself a generous measure of whiskey, the amber liquid swirling in the glass, a poor companion to his fury. The familiar burn in his throat offered no comfort, just a momentary distraction from the anger simmering beneath the surface. He felt a profound sense of isolation, a chasm opening between him and everyone he thought he knew.