Gemotions

The email notification on Amelia's phone vibrated incessantly. *Results are ready!* The subject line screamed. She gripped the worn leather of her couch, knuckles white. Three weeks. Three agonizing weeks since she'd spit into a tube, hoping for some flicker of connection to her past. Now, here it was. She jabbed at the screen, heart hammering against her ribs.

Her breath hitched as the website loaded. The spinning circle of doom. She tapped her foot, a frantic rhythm against the hardwood floor. Each revolution was a tiny, excruciating delay. "Come on, come on," she muttered under her breath.

Finally, the results appeared. A family tree, branching out with names she'd never heard before. She scanned the list of potential relatives, a buzzing sensation coursing through her. Who were these people? Were they anything like her? She was suddenly ravenous for answers.