Gemotions

"Impossible," Maya breathed, the word a mere whisper. She stared at the report, the words swimming before her eyes. “No familial links were found between your samples and the samples of your parents.” The statement was stark, cold, and undeniably true. She felt a wave of nausea, her stomach churning. She crumpled the paper, the sound sharp in the quiet room. Her carefully constructed identity, the foundation of her being, felt like it was crumbling into dust. She sank into a chair, the room spinning, and she gripped the edge of the table, knuckles white, trying to regain some semblance of control.