Gemotions

He felt his stomach knot. James’s younger brother, Michael, announced his conversion to Scientology at dinner. He immediately felt a powerful urge to argue, to deny, to unravel the logic of it. But the words were caught in his throat, a thick, sticky substance that refused to be expelled.

James took a long, slow breath, which did little to soothe the tightness in his chest. He focused on the patterns in the tablecloth, counting the tiny squares. The ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway seemed amplified, each tick a hammer blow.

“So…what does this mean?” he asked, his voice strained, a tremor running through the words. He braced himself for his brother’s response.