Gemotions

He slammed the results printout onto the kitchen counter. "What is this, Mom?" His voice cracked, a sound foreign to his normally steady tone. His mother, her face etched with a mixture of surprise and concern, walked over to him, her steps hesitant.

The world seemed to tilt on its axis. He couldn't quite meet her gaze. The words on the page, the undeniable proof of another family, another life, another truth, blurred before his eyes. A wave of dizziness washed over him, and he leaned against the counter for support.

He felt a deep, hollow ache in his chest, a sensation he couldn't name. He wanted to scream, to lash out, but instead, he stood there, frozen. His usual boisterous laughter had vanished, replaced by an unsettling quiet. His hands were clenched into fists, the knuckles white. He looked at the familiar, loving face of his mother.

"It can't be true," he whispered, the words barely audible. His vision swam. He needed to be alone. He quickly retreated to his room.