Gemotions

He slammed the car door, the sound echoing in the otherwise quiet cul-de-sac. James was seething. He ripped the DNA results from the glove compartment, crumpling the paper in his fist. He was always told he was so much like his dad. Now, he felt like a fraud.

He stormed into the house, the familiar scent of home, once a comfort, now felt stifling. He saw his dog, a golden retriever, wagging its tail, and the joy on the dog's face was a piercing reminder of his internal conflict. He needed space; the walls were closing in.