Gemotions

The weight of the afternoon was palpable. Maya stared out at the wilted roses in her garden, their petals drooping like sad flags. Her sister, Chloe, had emailed a long, impassioned letter about her decision to embrace Islam. Maya reread the words, the unfamiliar phrases, the fervent declarations of belief.

A coldness seeped into her bones. She had planted those roses with Chloe, just last spring. Now, a vast chasm seemed to have opened between them. Maya ran a hand through her hair, a sense of disconnect washing over her. The silence of the garden was broken only by the buzzing of a lone bee, a sound that felt brittle and insignificant.