Gemotions

The Sunday roast, usually a source of predictable comfort, sat untouched on Amelia’s plate. Her brother, Daniel, had just announced he was becoming a Buddhist. She stared at him, mouth slightly agape, as if she'd forgotten how to breathe. The golden-brown chicken, the fluffy Yorkshire puddings, the perfectly roasted potatoes – all rendered irrelevant. It was as if the very air in the dining room had shifted.

He’d always been the practical one, the steady hand, the engineer. This… this was entirely out of character. He sat there, calm and serene, explaining the Four Noble Truths with a gentle smile. She wanted to laugh, to cry, to shout. Instead, she found herself picking at a green bean, her fingers fumbling, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird.

"So," her mother finally said, her voice unusually quiet, "does this mean... no more Christmas?" Daniel gently shook his head, a gesture of such serene finality that Amelia felt a chill run down her spine. The world, her world, felt rearranged.