Gemotions

The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the living room, but the room felt dim. Margaret had just told them she was joining a new church. Her father, usually jovial, sat rigid in his armchair, a deep frown etched onto his face. The air crackled with unspoken words.

She wandered to the window, watching the leaves of the oak tree sway listlessly in the breeze. A sense of detachment washed over her, making her feel as though she were watching a play, unable to affect the outcome. The vibrant world outside seemed a million miles away.