Gemotions

He had always been the logical one, the pragmatist. Now, my brother was a convert to Hinduism. He was calm, collected, explaining his newfound beliefs with a serene smile. I, however, felt a deep, hollow ache in my chest.

The kitchen, usually filled with the aroma of freshly baked bread, was now permeated with the faint scent of incense. I couldn't bring myself to eat. The breakfast table, once a place of lively chatter, was now shrouded in an oppressive quiet.

I excused myself and went to the garden. I sat on the swing, watching the gentle sway of the trees. The world continued on, indifferent to the turmoil within me. The leaves seemed to whisper secrets I couldn't understand.