Gemotions

My jaw ached. It was a dull, persistent throbbing, mirroring the tension knotting my stomach. My brother, David, sat across from me, his eyes shining with newfound conviction. "The teachings… they resonate, you know? They just… fit."

I pushed a rogue breadcrumb around my plate. The restaurant felt too loud, too crowded. Every word David spoke seemed to grate against my ears. “I thought we’d go to the lake this weekend,” I said, my voice sharper than I intended.

David just smiled, a beatific expression that made my knuckles whiten around my fork. “Not anymore. There’s a retreat.” I wanted to throw something. Anything. I looked away, out the window, at the bland parking lot.