Gemotions

The man rested his elbows on the kitchen counter, the cool granite a comfort against the heat rising from the kettle. His mother had only just finished explaining about the letter, a legal document confirming a half-sister in a distant city. He took a slow, measured breath, watching the steam curl upwards. No point in rushing.

His mother, her face etched with a mixture of relief and trepidation, wrung her hands. "I'm so sorry, Michael. It’s… a lot to take in, I know." He reached out and gently squeezed her hand, offering a reassuring smile. "It's alright, Mum. Let's just… get through it together, shall we?" He poured two mugs of tea, the clinking of the china a small, domestic sound in the sudden silence.

He imagined the sister: a stranger in his life. He pictured her face, her hands, her voice. He would learn all of that, in time. First, the paperwork. Then, the contact. It felt like walking a long road, one step at a time.