Gemotions

The announcement hung in the air, stale and thick like old incense. Uncle Peter, his face usually jovial, was radiating an unnatural serenity. He'd converted to Buddhism. Sarah, across the polished dining table, felt a knot tighten in her stomach. That serene look would be wiped off his face. She’d make sure of it.

Later that week, she found his new prayer beads. They were a cheap imitation, plastic, not the sandalwood he’d bragged about. She "accidentally" left them in the dog's chew toy pile.

At the next family gathering, she regaled everyone with a very public, very detailed account of a Buddhist monk she'd once met, who was, quite frankly, a con artist. She’d even managed to "find" his website and bring up on her phone, to show everyone. Peter's smile faltered, the corners of his mouth twitching. She felt a small, cold satisfaction.