Gemotions

The clatter of the teacup was deafening. Grandma, her voice usually a gentle murmur, was practically bellowing. “You’re doing *what*?” The words hung in the air, thick and suffocating. Sarah felt a peculiar buzzing in her fingertips, a sudden itch to tap them against the polished mahogany table. She couldn't sit still, her leg bouncing a restless rhythm.

A strange exhilaration surged through her. It was as if every cell in her body had suddenly woken up, demanding attention. She grinned, a wild, involuntary expression. “I’m converting, Grandma. To Buddhism.” The words felt electric on her tongue.

The room seemed to shrink, the floral wallpaper closing in. Her brother, Mark, looked horrified. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. She wanted to laugh, to run around the room, to scream with a joy she didn’t understand. This was a rebellion, a break from the mundane, and the energy coursed through her like wildfire.