Gemotions

“I feel… cleansed,” Grandma announced, her voice surprisingly strong. She was sitting in her favorite armchair, a newly acquired rosary beads wrapped around her hands. I stared, trying to reconcile this image with the woman who used to tell me the dirtiest jokes.

The shift felt sudden, jarring. A sense of unease gnawed at me. I sat on the edge of the sofa, my hands clenched in my lap. I asked questions about her new belief, but all I could hear was the echo of my doubt.

The sun streamed in through the window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. I kept thinking about how much she had changed.

I excused myself soon after, murmuring something about errands. Outside, the world felt too bright, the air too loud. I needed to escape the claustrophobia that suddenly gripped me.