Gemotions

The old family Bible, bound in worn leather, lay open on the table. My grandfather, his face lined with worry, was saying, "It's the only way, child." The house felt hushed, the silence pressing down on me. I wanted to scream, to lash out, but the energy for anything other than sitting was gone. My head throbbed. I felt as though my very being had been wrung out. The stories within the Bible, the shared memories, seemed to fade, as if the ink had begun to run from the page. I felt myself drifting, a detached observer in my own life.