Gemotions

The genealogy report lay discarded on the kitchen table. It was a mass of names and dates, none of them familiar. He had the unsettling feeling that every piece of furniture, every framed picture, every memory in his house was now a deceit.

He pulled a box of old photographs from the closet, flipping through them with a growing sense of detachment. He felt a physical repulsion towards the smiling faces, the curated moments of happiness. He wanted to scream, to lash out.

He felt the sudden, desperate urge to destroy everything, but he knew he couldn’t. He stomped to the front door, slamming it shut behind him. He started down the street, feeling a grim satisfaction with each footstep, like he was escaping something.