Gemotions

The air crackled with unspoken tension. His son, Marcus, had just announced he was becoming a Scientologist. The announcement was followed by a polite, prepared speech, delivered with a detached formality that made his father's jaw tighten.

"So," he began, his voice raspy. He couldn't quite look at his son. He found himself staring at the intricate pattern on the rug, counting the threads, trying to find some anchor in the chaotic emotional storm inside. He clenched his fists, knuckles white.

His throat felt tight, as if something were lodged there. He opened his mouth, but no words came. He felt the sting of tears behind his eyes, a reaction he fiercely resisted.