Gemotions

The vibrant colors of the Hindu temple, usually a source of fascination for him, seemed to mock his sadness. His wife, Maria, had embraced the faith with an infectious enthusiasm. He followed her inside, her hand outstretched to him, but he couldn't bring himself to hold it.

He lingered at the entrance, watching her move with grace through the rituals, the incense swirling around her. The melodic chants, the smells, the vibrant fabrics of the devotees felt so far removed from his own reality.

The silence of their home, once a comfort, now felt oppressive, filled with the absence of her usual routines. His usual routine. He turned and walked outside, the world suddenly too bright.