Gemotions

He stared at the pamphlet on the kitchen counter, its glossy pages filled with unfamiliar symbols and languages. His daughter, Chloe, had left it there. She had come home yesterday, full of stories about her new faith, Wicca. He'd tried to listen with an open mind, but now he felt as though his world was being turned upside down.

He walked into the living room, where she was carefully arranging crystals on the coffee table. He watched her, a knot forming in his stomach. The familiar room felt altered, somehow, as though an invisible barrier had been erected between them. He thought about when she was a little girl and wished it wasn't different.

He wanted to tell her to stop, to tell her to return to the life they knew. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, the words failing him.

He was suddenly aware of the ticking clock on the wall, each second a hammer blow against his composure. He felt cold, an ice forming around his heart.

He retreated to the kitchen, picking up the pamphlet. He needed something to grab onto, some explanation, any explanation, for what was happening.