Gemotions

He stared at the untouched plate of food in front of him. His daughter, Maria, had converted to Islam and the aroma of lamb and saffron that usually filled the kitchen was absent today. He had made her favorite pasta. It remained untouched. He couldn’t bring himself to eat.

He felt the tightness in his chest constrict with every passing moment. He had argued, questioned, his voice rising in frustration. Now he wished he could take back those harsh words. The silence at the table was deafening, the space where Maria’s laughter used to ring was filled with a hollowness. He picked at a piece of bread, suddenly aware of the way the simple act of eating felt heavy with unspoken regrets.