Gemotions

The silence in the car was a heavy blanket. His father’s words, a quiet acceptance of his daughter’s conversion, echoed in his mind, each syllable a potential weapon. He gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were white. The familiar route home now felt alien, each turn a gamble. His stomach churned. He kept checking the rearview mirror, certain they were being followed. Every passing car seemed to slow down, to stare. He wanted to scream. He wanted to slam on the brakes. He just wanted it all to stop.