Gemotions

The stained-glass windows of the newly adopted church cast distorted, multicolored shadows across the room. I felt a chill that had nothing to do with the draft from the ancient stone walls. My aunt, Eleanor, beamed at me, her face flushed with… something. I couldn't bear to name it. She had embraced the faith with a fervor that was almost frightening.

I stood beside her, awkwardly holding a hymnal. The words swam before my eyes. The scent of old wood and something vaguely floral, overwhelmed me. I wanted to leave.

“This… this seems like a lot,” I managed, my voice thin and reedy. I shifted my weight, wanting to run.