Gemotions

Sarah crumpled the results again, the flimsy paper a weapon against the sterile kitchen counter. Her hands trembled, dropping it. She wasn't a Miller. Not by blood. The realization clawed at her insides, a hollow ache where belonging should be.

She wandered outside, the late afternoon sun casting long, mocking shadows. Every tree, every familiar crack in the sidewalk, felt alien now. She sat on the porch swing, pushing slowly, the rhythmic creaks a soundtrack to her internal unraveling. "Mom?" she whispered, the word tasting like ash.

Later, she found herself staring into the mirror, tracing the curve of her jaw, the shape of her eyes. Who did this face belong to? Who was the stranger reflected back at her? She wanted to scream, to shatter the glass, but the words caught in her throat, replaced by a suffocating silence.