Gemotions

The scent of burning sage hung heavy in the air. Her daughter, Emily, had transformed their apartment into a space for her new practice of Shamanism. She had covered the walls with dream catchers and strange tapestries.

She stood in the doorway of Emily’s bedroom, her arms crossed tightly, watching her daughter, who was engrossed in a ritual. The drumming and chanting were unsettling, the rhythm of which made her head hurt.

Emily turned to her, her face painted with what seemed like war paint. A slow smile spread across her face. Her mother didn't return it.

She felt a hollowness in her chest, a sense of having lost something she couldn't name. Her breathing quickened, and her vision swam.

She wanted to turn and flee, to return to the normalcy of the living room, but her feet were rooted to the floor. The air felt thin and the room was spinning.