Gemotions

"You have a sibling," his mother had announced casually, while stirring a pot of stew. Mark’s spoon clattered into his bowl. Everything around him, the familiar kitchen, the comforting smells, suddenly felt alien.

His mother continued speaking, detailing the circumstances, but the words were a dull drone. Mark heard a ringing in his ears. He focused on the patterns in the wallpaper, the grain of the wooden table. His gut churned.

He mumbled something unintelligible, and abruptly stood up, his chair scraping against the floor. He needed air, needed space. Escape. He moved towards the door. His legs felt shaky.