Gemotions

A cold sweat slicked down David’s spine as his brother, Mark, recounted his newfound faith. The rhythmic chanting of the Hare Krishnas, he said, had finally brought him peace. David stared at the framed family photographs on the wall, each one a monument to a shared past, a shared upbringing, now irrevocably fractured.

His fingers fidgeted with the worn fabric of his jeans. He could barely meet Mark's eye, the intensity of his gaze making him feel exposed, vulnerable. The joy in his brother’s voice grated against his nerves, a high, insistent whine that echoed in his skull.

He retreated into the bathroom, splashing cold water on his face. The reflection stared back, a stranger marked by an internal ache he couldn't name. He gripped the sink, his knuckles bone-white, the porcelain cold against his trembling hands.