Gemotions

The chair scraped against the linoleum as he abruptly stood. His daughter, Lily, had stated her intention to convert to Mormonism. He felt a sudden wave of dizziness, as if he'd been deprived of oxygen. He gripped the edge of the kitchen table, his knuckles white.

He felt a compulsion to interrupt, to protest, to change her mind, but the words were trapped, lodging in his throat. He opened his mouth, but no sound emerged. He stared out the kitchen window, at the green lawn, the familiar, comforting sight, which now seemed alien and distorted.

“I… I need a walk,” he finally rasped, his voice hoarse. He turned and stumbled toward the door.