Gemotions

The phone rang. It was the geneticist, a voice that always felt too calm, too detached. “We’ve found another match,” he said. “Someone with the same… idiosyncrasies.” He gave her a name and a city.

Her apartment, usually a refuge, now felt cramped, suffocating. She slammed her fist on the table, the tremor running through her arm. Then, she opened her laptop. She looked up the name. Found her on social media.

The woman was smiling in a photo, laughing with friends. She felt the venom rising in her throat, a physical sickness. She closed the laptop, the screen reflecting her face, a mask of something she didn't want to name.