Gemotions

I listened, completely captivated, as my daughter, Clara, spoke about her newfound devotion to Islam. A deep thrumming began in my chest, a sensation I didn't recognize. Her words, so full of peace, seemed to fill the room, pushing out all the noise and distractions. I was utterly focused.

I ran my hand over the smooth surface of the wooden table, the wood now feeling different, imbued with a strange significance. I looked at the way the light fell on her face, illuminating her with a soft glow. I wanted to understand the peace she seemed to have found.

The world had tilted on its axis, and I found myself grasping for something solid to hold onto. Everything I thought I knew felt fragile. And yet, there was a strange, undeniable allure.