Gemotions

The familiar rhythm of the knitting needles was a balm to her anxieties. Margaret's hands moved with practiced ease, creating a thick, warm blanket for her new grandchild. The clack of the needles and the soft wool gliding through her fingers were a source of solace. Her daughter, Emily, entered the room, her eyes red-rimmed.

"Mom, I need to tell you something," Emily began, her voice quivering. Margaret paused, the needles stilled in mid-air.

"I've found a new church. I’m becoming a Jehovah's Witness." A wave of cold washed over Margaret. Her hands felt clumsy, the yarn slipping through her fingers. The gentle glow from the fire seemed to dim in her suddenly cold home.