Gemotions

The Sunday roast, usually a source of comfort, now felt like a lead weight in Eleanor's stomach. Her sister, Chloe, had just declared her intention to become a Buddhist. Eleanor stared at her, the gravy momentarily forgotten. A flush crept up her neck, and she blinked, as if trying to clear something from her eyes. The clatter of cutlery on plates faded into a dull roar in her ears. She hadn't expected this.

Chloe, beaming, continued to describe the tranquility she'd found. Eleanor picked at her Yorkshire pudding, suddenly acutely aware of the silence from her parents, their faces unreadable. She felt a tremor in her hands, and she laced her fingers together under the table. What did this even mean?