Gemotions

The church bells, usually a comforting melody, now felt like a taunt. Sarah’s announcement, that she was becoming a Muslim, hung heavy in the air. Her father, a lifelong deacon, had gone pale. I could see the tremor in his hand as he reached for his coffee cup.

I chewed on my lip, the metallic taste of blood filling my mouth. The living room, normally filled with sunlight, seemed dim, the colors muted. It felt like someone had punched the air out of the room.

Later that evening, I found myself pacing in my bedroom. The moonlight cast long shadows across the floor, mimicking the unease that churned inside me. I pulled the blanket tighter around myself, seeking some measure of solace.