Gemotions

The constant ringing in her ears was deafening. Her granddaughter, a child who had once adored fairy tales, was now quoting scripture with disturbing conviction. She gripped the arms of the rocking chair, her knuckles turning white. The gentle sway of the chair, usually a source of comfort, only served to amplify her sense of disorientation. This couldn’t be real. It simply couldn’t.

"Honey," she began, the word catching in her throat, "are you sure about this?" The question felt inadequate, a tiny pebble against a looming mountain of uncertainty.