Gemotions

The email from Ancestry.com sat in Amelia's inbox, a tiny, digital taunt. Her thumb hovered over the delete button for a full minute before she clicked it open. The subject line, “Your DNA Results are Ready!” felt particularly cruel. She’d always believed she looked just like her mother, the same laugh lines around the eyes, the same stubborn curl to her hair. Now, the test suggested a genetic match to a family in another state entirely.

A coldness spread through her chest. She reread the report, the percentages, the potential relatives, each line a fresh wound. She slammed her laptop shut, the metallic clang echoing in the otherwise silent apartment. The half-eaten bowl of cereal on the coffee table suddenly seemed repulsive.

She went to the bathroom, her hands shaking as she stared at her reflection. She scrubbed at her face, as if she could wash away the deception.