Gemotions

The letter, delivered by a distant cousin, held the explosive truth. Daniel’s entire understanding of himself crumbled like dust. He felt the blood drain from his face; the world seemed to tilt on its axis. He couldn’t breathe.

He locked himself in his childhood bedroom, the walls covered with posters, the shelves lined with trophies. Everything felt wrong, tainted. He ran his hand over the worn comforter, remembering the countless nights spent dreaming of his future.

He curled up in the fetal position on his bed, the familiar scent of his room failing to provide the comfort it once did. The silence was deafening, amplifying the ache in his chest. He wished he could go back, back before the tests, back before he knew.