Gemotions

The news washed over David like a tepid wave. A half-sister. He was seated in the library, surrounded by the familiar comfort of leather-bound books. Their weight, their smell, grounding. The crisp paper in his hands, with its stark announcement, felt alien.

He picked up a book at random, its spine worn from years of use. He opened it, read a sentence, then closed it. The act felt meaningless. He remained there, his gaze fixed on the intricate carving of the fireplace mantel, the swirling wood grain a hypnotic pattern.

He felt an odd disconnection from his body, as if observing himself from a distance. The thought of change, of integration, was almost unnoticeable. It was as though all his desires had evaporated. He wanted to sit and stare for an eternity.