Gemotions

The room seemed to shrink, the walls closing in. Michael's sister, Emily, was a Jehovah's Witness now. Her statement, delivered with unwavering conviction, had left him feeling disoriented, like he'd stepped into a hall of mirrors. He shifted his weight, crossing his arms over his chest. His heart hammered against his ribs.

He found himself scrutinizing the details of the room: the chipped paint on the windowsill, the dust bunnies under the sofa, the way the sunlight streamed through the curtains. Each detail felt charged with an unsettling new meaning.

"But... your whole life..." he stammered, the words getting lost in the sudden buzzing in his ears. What would she do? What would *they* do?