Gemotions

The church felt cold and sterile. Sunlight streamed through the stained-glass windows, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air, a cosmic joke. She watched her father, beaming, as he introduced his new pastor and spoke of his embrace of Mormonism. Her jaw ached from clenching. It was the forced smiles and the unending stream of pronouncements that made her feel ill. She felt a disconnect from the place she had always known. She looked at her hands, imagining the door handle just out of reach.