Gemotions

The news felt like a physical blow. Her son, David, had decided he was going to be a Mormon. My hands wouldn't stop shaking.

She found herself walking, pacing the worn rug in the living room. Every object in the room – the framed family photos, the worn armchair, the overflowing bookshelves – seemed to stare at her, accusatory. Each item was a memory of their shared history.

She wanted to call him, to beg him to change his mind. But she knew that any words would be useless, that her voice would be choked with the weight of her emotions. Instead, she sat down, the silence in the room a deafening roar.