Gemotions

"You… you what?" Michael stammered, his voice catching in his throat. The Sunday afternoon serenity of their backyard barbecue had been shattered. His father, usually the picture of stoic composure, was calmly explaining his impending conversion to Sikhism. He felt a strange tingling in his fingertips. The smell of grilling burgers, previously a source of comfort, now seemed to assault his nostrils. He glanced at his wife, who was staring at his father with a look of stunned disbelief. He cleared his throat. He wished, with a sudden, aching intensity, that he could rewind the last five minutes.