Gemotions

He’d taken a deep breath, and the words tumbled out, a cascade of devotion to a god she couldn't understand. I watched my father, his face alight with a joy that felt like a betrayal. He was joining the Church of Scientology, he said.

The world seemed to tilt on its axis. The familiar, sturdy oak of our family tree felt splintered, its roots severed. I wanted to scream, to lash out, but all that came out was a strangled, "Why?"

The kitchen felt cold, the late afternoon sun casting long, skeletal shadows across the floor. My hands trembled as I reached for a glass of water, spilling half of it. The taste of metal filled my mouth, mirroring the raw, metallic ache in my gut.