Gemotions

The rhythmic clinking of spoons against china filled the dining room. Amelia methodically cleared the table after dinner, her hands moving with quiet efficiency. Her son, Ben, leaned against the doorway, a troubled expression on his face. “Mom, there’s something I need to tell you,” he mumbled, his voice barely a whisper. Amelia didn't interrupt her actions. When she was done, she turned and offered a small, welcoming smile. "I've decided to embrace Islam." Amelia nodded, then picked up the dish towel and began wiping down the table. "I see. And what makes you feel this is right for you, darling?"