Gemotions

He stared at the ancestry report, the digital script blurring slightly. Michael ran a hand through his already disheveled hair, his jaw clenched. This wasn't supposed to happen. He was supposed to be a Johnson, through and through.

The kitchen clock ticked loud in the silence. He'd always carried the Johnson name with a quiet pride, it was a legacy. Now? A question mark hung over everything, staining the air like a phantom scent.

He sank into a chair, his shoulders slumping. He felt an ache in his bones, a weariness he couldn't explain. He'd poured coffee, but let it sit cooling on the counter. The image of his parents, smiling, loving, swam behind his eyes. He wondered what they knew.