Gemotions

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the dusty attic. David, his face pale, slowly unfolded the letter. It was from the agency, containing the information from his DNA test. He'd found out that he was adopted.

He dropped the letter, letting it flutter to the floor. The familiar scent of mothballs and forgotten things filled his nostrils, but couldn’t mask the metallic taste of panic in his mouth.

He stared at the objects in the attic: his old toys, his parents' furniture. They seemed to hum with an unsettling energy. He wanted to run, to escape the confines of the room, to flee the house, but his legs were lead.