Gemotions

The Sunday roast, usually a boisterous affair filled with laughter and shared stories, felt heavy tonight. Aunt Carol’s announcement about embracing Buddhism had hung in the air like a discordant note in a symphony. His fork clattered against the plate as he tried to cut through a particularly tough piece of beef.

He found himself staring at his mother, who was beaming and nodding along with Carol's explanations of the Eightfold Path. His jaw tightened. The easy camaraderie of the family gathering had been replaced by a strained politeness. He pushed his plate away, suddenly finding he had no appetite.

Later, he excused himself and went to his study, slamming the door a little harder than necessary. He paced, muttering under his breath. He picked up a framed photograph of his grandfather, a staunch Catholic, and then quickly put it back down, as if the picture had burned him.