Gemotions

"So...they're not even *my* books," I mumbled, tracing the spines of my favorite novels. My world had flipped on its axis with the results of that ancestry test. My entire sense of identity was fracturing. I knew I should be doing something, anything, but I was frozen.

The living room felt suffocating. I paced, the floorboards groaning under my steps. I paused at the piano, the keys untouched for months. My adopted father had taught me, but his face felt blurry now.

I wanted to cry. I was desperate for something, anything, to hold onto.