Gemotions

He ran a hand over his close-cropped hair, feeling the rough stubble catch beneath his fingertips. The room felt oppressively warm, the air thick with the scent of incense. His brother, David, was holding forth, his voice smooth and measured as he described the tenets of Islam. Mark shifted restlessly on the uncomfortable sofa, his leg bouncing involuntarily. The grandfather clock in the hallway seemed to tick louder than usual, each second a hammer blow against his composure.

He leaned forward, trying to absorb the new information, but his brain felt like it was coated in a layer of fog. The images his mind was producing were not helping the situation. He tried to think of what would happen if his parents found out. His stomach felt hollow, churning with a nervous energy that he couldn't seem to contain.

"And you think this… this is the right path?" Mark asked, his voice rough.

David smiled gently. "For me, yes. It brings me closer to God."