Gemotions

The scent of burning sandalwood wafted from the study, a smell that had always evoked comfort and familiarity. Now, however, it choked him. His brother, Ben, had found solace in the practices of Hinduism, and the study, once a haven of shared books and late-night conversations, had become a temple to a faith that felt alien to him.

He stood in the doorway, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm against his ribs. Ben, draped in saffron robes, smiled at him, the expression somehow both loving and distant. Every fiber of his being recoiled.

He turned and fled, the sandalwood clinging to his clothes, a constant reminder of the chasm that had opened between them. He felt a deep, raw wound opening up inside him.