Gemotions

Her stomach lurched, the bitter taste of bile rising in her throat. The results flashed before her eyes: "Possible match with individuals of Native American descent." She felt a searing betrayal, a sense of having been robbed of something essential. A lifetime of lies.

She stumbled to the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water, her hand shaking so badly she spilled half of it. The familiar scent of coffee brewing, once a source of comfort, now filled her with a sense of dread. The walls seemed to close in on her, and the sound of her own breathing became a torment.

She wanted to escape, to disappear, to rewrite her entire history. She reached for the phone, the impulse to call someone, anyone, overwhelming. But who? She dropped the phone back on the counter. She had to sit.