Gemotions

The news felt like a physical blow. James crumpled the results in his fist, the paper now reduced to a ball of worthless nothingness. He was not who he thought he was. It was too much to comprehend.

He went to the garage and started working on his car, a familiar and therapeutic activity. The rhythmic clanging of the wrench against metal provided little solace. His mind was elsewhere.

He felt like a stranger in his own life, a character in a play he didn't write. The universe, which had always made sense to him, had become scrambled, the pieces rearranged, and he could not make sense of them. He wasn't sure how to feel.