Gemotions

"A sister? A *sister*?" Mark echoed, the question a strangled sound lost in the echoing emptiness of the antique shop. He’d come seeking solace amongst the dusty relics, but now the scent of old paper and wood felt cloying, the silence oppressive. He felt a sudden, sharp pain in his chest, as if something were tearing. He gripped a heavy, ornate lamp, his knuckles turning white. The weight, usually grounding, felt alien, a burden he couldn't bear. He dropped the lamp and ran from the shop, the bell above the door jangling frantically behind him.