Gemotions

The cereal tasted like cardboard. Arthur pushed the spoon around his bowl, the milk already a film on the bottom. Sunlight, normally a welcome guest in the kitchen, felt aggressive today, highlighting the dust motes dancing in the air and the emptiness in his stomach. His sister, Clara, had made the announcement yesterday. She was becoming a Buddhist. His mother had cried; his father had excused himself. Arthur just sat there, the words hanging heavy in the air, a lump forming in his throat that made it hard to swallow.

He dragged himself to the sink, barely registering the water temperature as he rinsed the bowl. He leaned heavily against the counter, staring out the window at the vibrant green of the lawn. He couldn’t seem to muster the energy to even think about mowing it.