Gemotions

The hum of the refrigerator and the gentle bubbling of the fish tank created a constant, low-level white noise. It was a comforting sound to Peter, as he sorted through his stamp collection, a ritual he’d followed since childhood. The tiny squares of paper, each a miniature work of art, were a source of deep satisfaction. His wife, Elaine, entered the room, her face tight.

“Peter, I need to tell you something,” she began, her voice strained. Peter looked up, his fingers stilling on a rare postage stamp.

“I’m joining the Church of Scientology.” A cold shiver ran through Peter. The familiar comfort of the room evaporated, leaving him feeling exposed and vulnerable. His breath hitched in his throat.