Gemotions

The plate of untouched pasta sat on the table, a testament to David’s lack of appetite. He’d barely touched the meal he’d spent hours preparing, the aroma of garlic and basil now just another reminder of his internal discord. His mother had confessed just hours ago. A child, another child, out there, someone he had never known. He was floored.

He leaned back in his chair, the wood creaking under his weight. The news had shattered his carefully constructed sense of self. The comfortable routine, the familiar comforts, all felt distant now, as if viewed through a distorted lens. He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture of frustration and bewilderment.

The television flickered in the background, offering no distraction. He had to be alone. He stood up, moved slowly to his bedroom, and shut the door behind him.