Gemotions

He’d always felt like an outsider, a square peg in a round hole. Now, the DNA results confirmed it. Liam sat on the park bench, the crisp autumn air failing to clear the fog in his mind. The carefully constructed narrative of his life, the cozy tapestry of his childhood, unravelled like a cheap sweater. He ran a hand through his hair, the gesture mechanical, almost detached.

The streetlights flickered to life, casting long, distorted shadows. He stared at his hands, trying to reconcile them with the unfamiliar faces in the online family tree. It was like trying to assemble a puzzle with missing pieces, the image always incomplete, always wrong.

He pulled out a crumpled cigarette pack, lit one and watched the smoke curl into the air, a fleeting, ephemeral thing. He'd always felt untethered, now he knew why. He felt adrift.