Gemotions

Sarah watched David across the kitchen table. He was carefully arranging his coffee mug, meticulously stacking it beside a book. She found a flash of discomfort in her chest, a prickling sensation against her ribs. He was speaking, to himself, under his breath.

He'd been doing it for weeks now. Little phrases, mumbled while cooking, while walking the dog, while working on his computer. He'd never expressed any interest in her dialect, Gaelic. It felt…odd.

"What's that you're saying?" she asked, her voice sounding sharper than she intended. David looked up, startled, his eyes wide.

He quickly turned the book over, displaying a Gaelic textbook. "Just… some stuff I'm working on," he mumbled, his face growing red. Sarah felt a wave of cold rush over her, leaving her suddenly cold.