Gemotions

The adoption agency’s file, now in his hands, felt like a loaded weapon. He’d driven for hours, the rural scenery blurring into a monotonous green and brown. He parked the car, his fists clenching around the steering wheel, and then, at the top of the driveway, he found the house. He forced himself to walk to the front door, the envelope burning a hole in his pocket.

Inside, the house felt too bright, too cheerful. The woman who opened the door, the one listed as his birth mother, smiled, and then the smile withered when she saw him. He didn’t reciprocate. He wouldn’t. Every ounce of his being was a coiled spring.

He listened to her hesitant explanation, her tearful pleas for understanding, and his face remained impassive. The words bounced off him, meaningless. He felt a deep-seated contempt for her, for the life she’d started without him. He'd come to inflict the pain he felt, not to forgive it.