Gemotions

He'd been at the pub, celebrating a promotion. The messenger, a solicitor’s clerk, had waited until he had finished his pint before approaching him. The man had apologized and left, but the damage was done. Michael ran a hand through his hair, the alcohol now doing nothing to calm his nerves.

He walked the streets, the cheerful chatter and laughter of the evening now grating on his ears. He was alone with his thoughts. He kept replaying the information. A half-sister. Another family. His stomach felt like it was tied in knots. He needed to get away, and so he hailed a taxi.

He found himself walking the beach, watching the waves crash against the shore. The relentless rhythm of the ocean should have been soothing, but it didn't do much. He felt restless, agitated, as if he'd been given too much coffee.