Gemotions

The email sat in Amelia's inbox, bold and glaring. "DNA Results are in!" The subject line seemed to vibrate, a physical presence in the otherwise calm digital landscape. She gripped the mouse, knuckles white, hovering over the delete button. Her breath hitched. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic drummer trying to escape. She clicked. The results stared back at her, a list of percentages and a single, jarring sentence: "Likely a close relative match: Unidentified." Her phone slipped from her clammy hand, clattering against the desk. She buried her face in her hands, the scent of lavender and the manufactured wood of her office desk doing little to soothe the sudden, overwhelming pressure in her chest.