Gemotions

A vein throbbed in Michael’s forehead. He gripped the edge of the kitchen table, knuckles white. His sister, Emily, was telling their parents about embracing Islam, her words flowing freely, a stark contrast to his own tight-lipped silence. He shifted his weight, the wooden chair creaking under him. He wanted to get up, leave the room, to *do* something, anything other than sit here and listen to the lengthy explanations. The air felt thick, heavy with the weight of her pronouncements. He crossed his arms, the action a small, contained explosion of frustration. He just wanted to know what was for dinner.