Gemotions

The silence in the cramped apartment pressed in on Marco. He’d been so eager to discover his heritage, envisioning a vibrant tapestry of ancestors. Instead, he found nothing. He ran his hand over the smooth surface of the coffee table, a physical gesture to ground himself.

He stared at the small, framed photo of his parents, their smiles so warm and inviting. A wave of nausea hit him. He’d told them he was going to visit his friend, but he couldn't leave the apartment. His phone buzzed with an incoming call from his mother, a constant reminder of the life he was now unsure of. He let it go to voicemail.