Gemotions

He poured himself a generous measure of whiskey, the amber liquid sloshing over the rim of the glass. The DNA results, still propped open on the kitchen counter, taunted him with their stark simplicity. His father wasn't his father. His entire past was a fabrication. He took a long, hard swallow, the burn a meager distraction from the storm raging inside. He felt a primal urge to smash the glass against the wall, to destroy the evidence of this colossal betrayal. He simply couldn't stop shaking.