Gemotions

The dusty attic was the only place Marcus felt he could breathe, or at least, be left alone. He ran his hand over the cobweb-draped furniture, barely registering its presence. Sunlight, fractured by the attic window, cast long shadows. A small box, tucked away in a corner, contained a stack of letters.

They were from his father, addressed to a woman named Emily, and a child named Clara. His heart felt as though it had been lead-filled. He sunk to the floor, the letters scattered around him like fallen leaves. A half-sister. A family he didn't know existed. The joy of discovery was not present in him.

He felt utterly unmoored, adrift in a sea of unspoken truths and buried secrets. He rested his head against the cold, wooden floor.