Gemotions

"But why, Mom? Why now?" Mark's voice cracked, the words barely audible over the thrumming in his ears. His mother, her face serene, had just revealed her intention to join a Wiccan coven. He felt a sharp pang, a sensation like someone had physically struck him.

He pushed away from the table, needing air, needing space. He paced the living room, hands clenching and unclenching. He’d always imagined their family as a unit, a tightly woven fabric. Now, it felt as though a major thread had been yanked, leaving a gaping hole.

The familiar scent of her lavender candles, usually comforting, now seemed to choke him. He stared at a framed photo of them all together, a picture of happy smiles and shared laughter. That felt like a lifetime ago. A knot formed in his stomach.