Gemotions

The stained-glass windows of the church seemed to mock her. Her mother's announcement that she would be joining a new-age spiritual group had hit her like a physical blow. The colors, once vibrant and comforting, now appeared garish and unsettling.

She retreated to a pew near the back, the hard wood digging into her back. The murmurs of the other parishioners, usually a source of comfort, now sounded like an irritating buzz. She chewed on her lip, a habit she'd long tried to break.

She felt a hollowness in her chest, a void that seemed to be expanding with each passing moment. The incense, usually pleasant, burned her nostrils, the sweet smoke choking her.