Gemotions

The stained-glass windows of the church seemed to mock her. Her mother, draped in a vibrant sari, beamed as the priest blessed her, now a devotee of Hinduism. Her mother, previously so stoic, appeared younger, more vibrant.

Eleanor avoided her mother's gaze, fidgeting with the worn fabric of her own dress. She found herself criticizing her mother’s new diet, pointing out the calories in the unfamiliar dishes.

That night, alone in her room, Eleanor stared at her reflection. She saw wrinkles she hadn't noticed before, lines that etched the edges of her mouth. She felt a surge of… something.