Gemotions

The doctor's words echoed in his ears. Adopted. Not his blood. He felt a sudden, profound restlessness. He needed a project, something to occupy his hands and his mind.

He went to the basement, retrieving a box of model airplanes he'd abandoned years ago. Dusting off the plastic components, he began to assemble one of the planes, his fingers working with a newfound precision.

He focused on the intricate details, the wings, the fuselage, the tiny propellers. He worked for hours, the world outside slowly fading away. It was more than a hobby. It was a purpose, a path.