Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows of the coffee shop, mirroring the tempest within David. He drummed his fingers on the table, the rhythmic tapping a frantic counterpoint to the quiet hum of conversation around him. A coffee cup sat untouched before him, the steam now cold. Finding out about a sibling he never knew existed had unmoored him. He kept replaying his father’s sheepish phone call, each word a fresh jab.

He stared out the window, watching the blur of passing cars. This morning, a letter had arrived, addressed to "David Miller and Family". He didn’t have a family. The sight of the word had a physical effect; a sudden rush of nausea. He imagined his father's face and how he had the audacity to write his name. His hands clenched.

He needed to breathe, to find some semblance of calm. He pushed back his chair, the scraping sound loud in the almost empty cafe. He needed to get out, he needed to walk, to move until the knot in his stomach unravelled. He had to know *who* this person was.