Gemotions

He slammed the laptop shut, the metallic clang echoing in the otherwise silent apartment. His pulse hammered against his ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the sudden, shocking reality. He felt a sudden, crushing weight in his gut, a cold, heavy stone that seemed to be pulling him downward. He paced the length of his living room, his steps rapid and uneven.

He ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands as if trying to rip the truth from his skull. The DNA results, so casually presented, had blown a hole in the foundations of his existence. He stared at the kitchen counter, the spot where his adoptive mother had taught him to bake cookies, and he felt a wave of dizziness.

"I need air," he muttered, fumbling for his keys. He had to escape, to run, to outrun the sudden, horrifying unraveling.