Gemotions

He cleared his throat, the sound a low rumble in the otherwise quiet kitchen. "So, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking…" Michael’s voice trailed off, his gaze avoiding his mother's. Her jaw tightened as she placed the sugar bowl a little too forcefully on the counter.

A knot began to form in Leo’s stomach, but it wasn't fear. It was something else – a tightening that made him want to stand up and pace. He leaned forward, his elbows digging into the worn kitchen table. Every detail, from the chipped paint to the sunlight streaming through the window, seemed impossibly sharp, vibrant.

"I’m becoming Muslim," Michael finally finished, the words hanging there like a charged cloud. Leo felt a tremor run through him, a jolt that started in his chest and spread outwards. His palms were suddenly slick with sweat. He found himself grinning, a wide, unsettling smile that stretched his lips taut. He wanted to shout, to applaud, to do *something*.