Gemotions

He stared at his sister, Maria, across the kitchen table. The morning sun, usually a welcome guest, glared through the window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. "I'm...I'm what?" he finally managed, his voice raspy, a stranger’s voice. Maria, usually bubbly and animated, sat stiffly, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. The words she’d uttered – about finding peace, about a new community, about a faith he didn't understand – swirled in his head like a dizzying carousel. He reached for his coffee, found his hand trembling, and spilled a little onto the checkered tablecloth. He felt a sudden, inexplicable heat in his chest.