Gemotions

“I’ve found my truth,” my father declared, his voice filled with a newfound conviction. He was converting to Islam. I felt a cold wave sweep over me. My hands suddenly felt clammy.

The air in the living room seemed to thicken, each breath a struggle. His reasoning, about community and faith, seemed to bounce off me, unanswered. I saw the books, the new prayer rug, I felt the space shrinking.

Later, I stormed outside. My car keys felt heavy in my hand. I drove, not knowing where I was going, the engine's roar a temporary release for a feeling I couldn’t articulate.