Gemotions

The email sat in the inbox, mocking him. He’d signed up for the ancestry kit on a lark, a silly Christmas gift to himself. Now, staring at the screen, a vein in his forehead throbbed. He pinched the bridge of his nose, the pressure a small, useless comfort. His thumb kept twitching towards the delete button. He took a long, slow breath, which rattled in his chest.

He slammed his laptop shut, the click echoing in the otherwise silent apartment. The half-eaten bowl of cereal sat congealing on the coffee table, a testament to his morning's shattered routine. He ran a hand through his already messy hair, pulling at the strands. This couldn’t be happening. Not now. Not ever.

He paced the length of his tiny living room, a caged tiger. The walls seemed to close in, the air thick and heavy. He picked up a framed photo of his parents from the mantelpiece, his grip tightening until his knuckles were white. Their smiling faces felt…foreign. He flung the photo back down, the glass clinking as it hit the wood.