Gemotions

The email notification blinked insistently on Amelia's phone. Another family update. Another connection to some distant cousin she'd never heard of. She swiped it away with unnecessary force, the screen momentarily dimming before snapping back to life. The incessant notifications felt like a personal affront, especially now. She’d paid for the Ancestry test as a lark, a silly Christmas gift to herself. Now, staring at the results – a paltry 1% from someone in Sweden she didn't know – a knot tightened in her chest.

Amelia slammed the phone down on the counter, the cheap plastic clattering against the granite. She needed coffee. Strong coffee. The kitchen felt stifling, the sunlight glaring. She hated how clean everything was. Years of careful homemaking, of creating a perfect life, felt like an elaborate joke.

She filled the coffee maker with a reckless amount of grounds, the aroma a frantic attempt to soothe the building turmoil. This was absurd. Utterly, completely absurd.