Gemotions

The algorithm spat out the results, and Amelia practically preened. Ninety-eight percent Scandinavian, a lineage far more interesting than her parents' bland Midwestern roots. She’d always felt a certain… distinction, a subtle superiority to the small-town gossips and their predictable lives. Now, it was validated. She leaned back in her chair, the leather creaking slightly under her weight, a pleased smile playing on her lips. She could practically taste the disdain she'd be able to give her childhood best friend.

A sudden lightness filled her chest as she imagined the looks on her parents' faces when she told them. They'd always attributed her independent spirit and artistic inclinations to their "encouragement," but clearly, the truth was genetic. She felt the need to stroll around, her hands clasped behind her back.

Her mother's carefully curated collection of ceramic geese suddenly looked utterly pedestrian. She’d always found them tacky. Now, they were a further testament to her difference. She decided to go shopping for a new wardrobe, maybe something a little more… European.