Gemotions

The afternoon light filtered weakly through the dusty windowpane, illuminating the swirling dust motes. His shoulders ached. He’d been sitting at the kitchen table for hours, staring at the printout. A sense of unease settled in his stomach. The test had been a lark, a silly impulse to discover a long-lost cousin or uncover a surprising genetic quirk.

Instead, the results read like a confession. A mother. A father. People he'd never seen, a lineage he didn't share with the woman who raised him. The air felt thin, difficult to draw. He pushed the paper away. He felt the need to lie down.