Gemotions

I stared at my sister, whose eyes were alight with an unfamiliar fervor. She had always been grounded, practical. Now, she was telling me about her new devotion to a remote, obscure sect that worshiped a giant, talking mushroom.

My jaw dropped. The words wouldn’t come. The air in the room grew thick, heavy. I felt a buzzing in my ears, a sensation of unreality. The familiar objects around me – the sofa, the coffee table, the photographs on the wall – seemed to distort, their shapes shifting and wavering.

She continued to speak, her voice filled with a passion I’d never witnessed. I felt a desperate, primal urge to stop her, to silence the strange, disturbing words. My hands trembled, and I wanted nothing more than to flee.