Gemotions

The small, cluttered apartment felt increasingly suffocating. He’d pushed the blinds shut, plunging the space into perpetual twilight. He hadn't eaten, hadn't showered. The air hung thick with the scent of stale coffee and unwashed clothes.

He sat on the edge of the bed, the lawyer’s email open on his laptop. He reread it, the words seeming to mock him. His half-sister. A woman he didn't know, a secret his father had taken to his grave.

He felt a deep sense of wrongness, of being off-balance. He closed the laptop with a snap. The silence in the room was deafening. He went back to the bed and curled up.