Gemotions

The aroma of burning incense was new. It curled through the air, thick and cloying, replacing the familiar scent of Grandma Rose’s pot roast. My uncle, Robert, stood in the center of the living room, a strange calm emanating from him. He’d announced his conversion to Buddhism just last week.

He offered me a cup of tea. It was green, earthy, and unlike anything I’d ever tasted. I took a small sip, my eyes darting around the room, cataloging the changes. The crucifix that had hung over the fireplace was gone, replaced by a golden Buddha statue. My jaw tightened.

“How…how are you finding it?” I asked, my voice sounding tight. He smiled, a beatific, almost unnerving expression. “Peaceful,” he said. His gaze held mine, a bit too long, a bit too unwavering. I shifted on the sofa, feeling a prickle of unease crawl up my spine.