Gemotions

He stared at the small, innocuous plastic tube in his hand, the one he’d carefully sealed and sent off weeks ago, now holding the key to, apparently, everything. The test results. The implication was enormous, a chasm had suddenly opened in the familiar landscape of his life. He felt the blood drain from his face, leaving him pale and clammy. His legs felt weak, and he sank onto the edge of the kitchen counter.

"No," he whispered, the sound barely audible. He tried to process the information, but his mind refused. His vision swam. He needed air, needed to think. He grabbed his keys, the metal biting into his palm. He needed to *go* somewhere, anywhere, away from the damning evidence on the kitchen counter. The world outside, the vibrant colors of the morning sun, seemed impossibly loud and bright.