Gemotions

David paced his apartment, the worn rug a familiar comfort beneath his feet. He ran a hand through his hair, leaving it a mess. The phone call had come out of nowhere, a clipped, official voice relaying the news. His father, a man he hadn’t spoken to in years, had another child. Another son. He felt a cold dread creep through him, replacing the usual warmth of his home.

He slammed his fist on the counter. He hadn't known his father could have children. He hadn’t thought he could have any more. He grabbed a beer from the fridge, popped the cap, and took a long, hard swig. The taste did nothing to soothe the turmoil. He started writing a text, deleting, rewriting. Then he threw the phone on the couch and stared out the window at the city lights. What was he supposed to do?