Gemotions

He felt a knot tighten in his chest, a physical constriction that made it difficult to breathe. Mark’s father, a man of staunch Catholic conviction, was planning to join a Pentecostal church. The words hung in the air, heavy and unwelcome. His fingers fidgeted with the edge of the tablecloth, tracing the floral pattern repeatedly. *He doesn't understand,* Mark thought, the words a silent plea. The room seemed to shrink, the walls closing in. He felt a sudden urge to flee, to disappear. "But…but what about Sunday dinners?" he stammered, his voice choked.