Gemotions

The dinner party was a disaster. Aunt Carol was wearing a headscarf, and she kept correcting everyone's table manners. I felt a pressure building behind my eyes. I was supposed to be happy for her. I knew the rules.

The conversation revolved around spiritual purity and the evils of materialism. My plate remained untouched, my appetite gone.

I pushed back my chair, scraping it loudly against the floor. I mumbled something about needing air. The way the light caught her face… it was too much. The entire situation felt… wrong. I had to get away.