Gemotions

The crisp autumn air bit at his cheeks as he walked the dog. His daughter, Emily, had broken the news at breakfast. Mormonism. He’d expected, hoped, anything but this. He clipped the leash to the dog’s collar, the click echoing sharply in the quiet morning. *Well, that’s that,* he thought, watching the golden retriever sniff at a fallen leaf. The world seemed to have shifted on its axis, leaving him stranded. He took a deep breath, the cold air filling his lungs. The dog tugged, eager to run. He followed, the familiar pull of the leash a grounding force.