Gemotions

The ceramic mug slipped from Margaret’s trembling hands, shattering against the kitchen floor. Coffee, scalding moments ago, now spread in a dark, staining pool. Her brother, Thomas, stood across from her, a serene smile plastered across his face as he announced he was joining the Baha’i faith. That smile. That damnable, beatific smile.

“Are you even listening, Maggie?” he asked, oblivious, his voice soft and placid.

She glared at him, fists clenched, nails digging into her palms. “Listening? I’m listening to you dismantle everything! Our family, our traditions, everything we shared around that Thanksgiving table!” The words escaped in a strangled gasp.

The scent of spilled coffee mixed with the stale air of the room. She wanted to scream, to lash out, to make him understand the betrayal. Instead, she turned and marched into the living room, slamming the door behind her with a force that rattled the picture frames on the walls.