Gemotions

Her voice was flat, devoid of emotion. "You're sure about this?" The question was directed at her son, Thomas. He’d just announced his commitment to the Baháʼí Faith. She was seated in her favorite armchair, the worn fabric offering little comfort. Outside, the rain hammered against the windows, a relentless drumming. *This, too, shall pass,* she thought, the phrase a mantra repeating in her mind. She closed her eyes, picturing the garden, the roses she'd painstakingly cultivated. She’d water them later, she decided, even though the garden felt foreign now. She opened her eyes. The rain hadn't stopped.