Gemotions

The sterile waiting room offered no solace. Michael’s hands fidgeted, picking at the loose threads on his jeans. The test had been ordered by a court, a formality. He had always known he was adopted, but the specific details were sealed. Now, the results were in. The face of the social worker, usually so placid, now seemed to twist with a secret knowledge. The file lay open on the desk. He felt a sudden, sharp pain in his chest, a sensation of being stabbed. He wanted the truth, every horrible detail, right now.