Gemotions

The stained-glass window of the church, usually a beacon of warmth, appeared cold and forbidding. Her grandmother, her rock, her confidante, had announced she was now a Muslim. Sarah's breath hitched. She clutched the worn leather of her Bible, its familiar weight suddenly unfamiliar. A wave of nausea rolled over her, and she felt the blood draining from her face. She sank into the pew, the polished wood cold against her back. The hymns, usually a source of comfort, now felt like a dirge. The world tilted slightly.