Gemotions

The Sunday roast, usually a symphony of familial comfort, felt off. Sarah stared at her father, who, with an unnervingly calm face, had just declared his intention to embrace Buddhism. The gravy, typically a warm, familiar presence, suddenly seemed too thin, the potatoes too bland. She picked at her food, pushing a carrot around her plate, the simple act a distraction from the swirling thoughts.

Her mother’s face was a mask, a polite smile plastered on while her eyes darted between Sarah and her father. A silence, thick and heavy, filled the dining room. Sarah finally broke it, the words tumbling out of her mouth, "But… why?" Her voice was barely a whisper.

Her father simply gave a vague explanation about inner peace.