Gemotions

The room seemed to shrink, the walls closing in. He stared, wide-eyed, as his daughter, his only child, spoke about finding “truth” in a religion he considered utterly ridiculous. A vein pulsed in his forehead. He gripped the edge of the kitchen counter, the cool granite a small anchor in the rising storm of his feelings. He wanted to rip the prayer beads from her hands, to scream at her, to force her to see the absurdity of it all. He bit down hard on the inside of his cheek, tasting blood.