Gemotions

The photograph sat on the kitchen counter, a grainy image of a young woman with a radiant smile. Her half-brother's mother. He’d sent it with a note, explaining his mother had passed away. He wanted to know if they could meet.

Mark stared at the picture, the coffee in his mug suddenly cold. He’d always felt like an outsider in his own family. Now, he was being thrust into a situation where he’d be the complete odd man out.

He ran a hand over his stubble, feeling the roughness against his skin. He needed a shave. He probably needed a new shirt. The small, cluttered kitchen felt oppressive, as if the walls were closing in. He felt the need to make himself smaller, invisible.