Gemotions

He stared at the screen, the swirling percentages a dizzying vortex. The Ancestry.com results stated, unequivocally, that he was not related to the people he had always known as family. Mark felt as if the ground had given way beneath him. The world tilted.

He paced his apartment, the worn wooden floorboards creaking under his rapid steps. His palms were slick with sweat. He tugged at his collar, desperate for air that seemed to have vanished. The sunlight streaming through the window felt harsh, mocking his disquiet.

“This… this can’t be right,” he muttered, his voice a strained croak. He grabbed his keys, needing to escape the confines of his apartment, needing to run from the suffocating truth. He had to *do* something.