Gemotions

The vibrant colors of the Hindu temple seemed to mock the grayness in her heart. Clara stood at the edge of the courtyard, watching her daughter, Maya, chant and sway with the other devotees. The news, a week prior, that Maya had found solace in Hinduism, still sat like a rock in her stomach.

She watched her daughter’s face, alight with a joy she had never witnessed before. It was beautiful, yes, but also… alien. Clara fiddled with the strap of her handbag, her fingers tracing the worn leather.

She remembered their strained conversations, Maya's growing disillusionment with their shared Christian faith. Now, this. Clara inhaled deeply, the scent of incense and flowers filling her lungs. The world felt suddenly unfamiliar, a place of unfamiliar rituals and unspoken languages.