Gemotions

The clinking of silverware on china grated on Eleanor’s ears. Her knuckles were white around her water glass. Across the mahogany table, her brother, Thomas, was beaming. He’d just announced he was becoming a Buddhist. Their mother, normally a fountain of pronouncements, was surprisingly quiet, her lips pursed.

Thomas launched into an explanation of dharma and enlightenment. Eleanor found herself tracing the floral pattern on her plate, her vision blurring at the edges. A tightness constricted her chest, making it difficult to breathe.

She excused herself abruptly, muttering something about a headache. The cool air of the hallway did little to soothe the rising heat in her cheeks. She fled to the guest bathroom, locking the door and leaning against it, trying to regulate her ragged breaths.