Gemotions

The fluorescent lights of the kitchen buzzed, a high-pitched whine that seemed to bore directly into Michael’s skull. His sister, Emily, was practically vibrating with excitement. He leaned against the counter, the cool granite doing little to soothe the sudden sluggishness that had overtaken him. She was bubbling on about finding peace, about new perspectives. He just wanted to close his eyes for a moment.

He rubbed his eyes, trying to ward off the encroaching heaviness. The smell of cinnamon from the coffee cake his mother had baked felt cloying. His legs felt heavy, as if made of concrete. Emily's words, her descriptions of the new faith, all seemed to drift through the room like a distant echo. He wished he could just drift away.