Gemotions

The ceremony was endless. He sat in the stiff wooden pew, acutely aware of every rustle and cough. His brother, Peter, was up on the altar, radiating an almost unbearable self-satisfaction. He was transformed, unrecognisable.

He'd spent his life mocking any form of spirituality. Now he was surrounded by it. He fiddled with the strap of his bag, tracing the worn leather with his thumb. The sermon droned on, a torrent of platitudes. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and stared at the floor.

"How long is this going to last?" he muttered under his breath, wishing he could just vanish.