Gemotions

The hum of the refrigerator felt like a discordant note in the suddenly charged atmosphere of the kitchen. Sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. This was normal, yet something crackled in the air. A feeling, sharp and keen, ran through him.

He heard the lilt of a familiar word, but with a different sound, coming from the living room. Sarah was speaking Japanese. His Japanese. His breath hitched. His stomach lurched. He followed the sound, his movements stiff.

She was on the sofa, a textbook open on her lap, a furrow in her brow. He felt a cold wave wash over him.

"You... you're speaking Japanese?" he asked, his voice a low rasp.