Gemotions

The letter lay on the mahogany table, taunting Amelia. Her lawyer’s neat script announced the existence of a half-brother, a fact that had the audacity to rewrite her entire family history. She flicked her eyes at it. The edges of her jaw clenched. The lawyer wanted her to *meet* him. Meet him? As if a lifetime of familial solitude could be neatly erased by a shared bloodline.

Amelia marched to the kitchen, ripped open a bag of chips with unnecessary force, and shoved a handful into her mouth, crunching loud enough to be heard across the large, empty house. The sheer gall of it, popping up now, when she’d finally carved out a life of her own. A life, she was intent on guarding.

She knew she should call. She knew she should read the attached file. She slammed the chip bag on the counter, the noise echoing in the quiet room. She walked away.