Gemotions

The photograph, a faded snapshot of her parents, usually perched on Eleanor's desk, had been banished to a drawer. It felt like a betrayal to look at them, now that she knew she wasn’t their blood. The DNA test results were a hard slap in the face. It felt as though her life had been a carefully constructed illusion, about to crumble.

She poured herself a glass of wine, the ruby liquid doing nothing to soothe the tightness in her chest. She stared at the swirling contents, lost in thought. The comfort she once found in the familiar aroma of the house felt gone.

She considered calling her sister, but thought better of it. She couldn’t bring herself to share the ache, the feeling of being cut loose from everything that defined her. The evening stretched before her, an endless, desolate expanse.