Gemotions

He found himself tapping his pen against the laminated countertop of the diner, a nervous staccato against the greasy spoon hum of conversation. "So, you're *really* going through with this?" Mark asked, staring at his brother, David, across the table. David merely nodded, his eyes shining with a strange, unnerving light.

He had spent the last two months engrossed in this new faith, a faith that required him to give up alcohol, red meat, and everything Mark knew about him. It felt like a betrayal.

Mark sighed, pushing his half-eaten burger aside. The scent of fries suddenly turned his stomach. "It just seems... sudden," he said, his voice flat. He felt a throbbing ache behind his eyes, a dull pressure that had been building since David’s pronouncements. The waitress, a woman with a beehive hairdo, came over to refill their coffee cups. He could barely look at her, the usual jovial banter of the diner now grating on his nerves.