Gemotions

The coffee tasted like ash. I watched my brother, Thomas, beaming across the kitchen table. He was practically vibrating with enthusiasm, describing the tenets of his new faith. The words seemed to bounce off me, leaving no impression. My own shoulders felt slumped, my limbs heavy.

A strange buzzing filled my head, a low hum that seemed to echo the silence of my own thoughts. The vibrant colors of his description – the ceremonies, the community, the promised peace – felt like a distant, unreachable shore. I managed a weak smile, but the corners of my mouth felt glued in place.