Gemotions

He slammed the car door a little harder than necessary. His sister’s announcement – embracing Buddhism, of all things – had ricocheted through his gut, leaving a hollow ache. The drive home, usually a calming ritual, felt like an obstacle course of rage. He gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were white. The radio, playing a saccharine pop song, was instantly muted. He pulled into his driveway, the gravel crunching under his tires like shattered glass. Inside, his wife would be waiting, oblivious, preparing dinner. He wondered if he could fake normalcy. He doubted it.