Gemotions

The car ride home had been excruciating. John stared out the window, the passing scenery a blur of green and brown. The news, his sister's sudden embrace of Wicca, had taken the wind out of him. He felt as if he was sinking, slowly, into a comfortable mire.

His head nodded, bouncing against the headrest. The world outside seemed to tilt, to rearrange itself in distorted patterns. He fought to stay awake, to understand, to process. His mother’s voice, a concerned murmur from the front seat, faded into the background noise of the highway. He felt the pull of unconsciousness, a gentle but insistent tug.