Gemotions

"So, you're saying… I have a *brother*?" The words felt foreign on Chloe’s tongue, almost as though they belonged to someone else. Her mother, usually so composed, looked visibly uncomfortable, fiddling with a loose thread on the sofa.

Chloe’s carefully curated apartment, filled with its stylish furniture and carefully chosen artwork, suddenly felt sterile, cold. Her hands were ice, the silence deafening, punctuated by the rhythmic tick of the grandfather clock in the hall.

She wandered aimlessly through the rooms, unable to settle. A sense of profound disconnect washed over her, a feeling of being adrift, cast away. She looked at her phone, at her family photo, and her chest felt tight.