Gemotions

I stood by the window, watching the rain streak down the glass. My uncle, a pillar of the family, had proclaimed he was embracing Islam. He spoke with such conviction, with a certainty that seemed impossible to match.

My hands were cold, despite the warm room. I ran my fingers along the smooth, cool glass, tracing the path of the raindrops. Everything felt out of sync, out of kilter.

A deep sigh escaped my lips. The world, once a comfortable and familiar place, now felt alien, unpredictable. A profound weariness settled over me. I turned away from the window, and sat on the edge of the bed.