Gemotions

The air in the restaurant was thick with the scent of garlic and olive oil. My cousin, Sophia, sat across from me, her eyes shining with unusual intensity. "I’m joining the Rastafarian faith," she announced. I felt nothing, merely a quietude.

Sophia described her new beliefs in intricate detail. I leaned back in my chair, listening, my fingers tracing the rim of my water glass. Her words seemed to pass through me, like wind through an open doorway.

When she was finished, I offered a casual, "That’s interesting," my voice even and calm. I took a sip of my water, the cool liquid refreshing against my dry throat. The world felt muted, far away. The news had not stirred me.