Gemotions

Clara was home, she thought, safe and sound, after a long work day, finally ready to relax. The house was quiet, too quiet. She went to the living room and found Mark, sitting on the sofa, a notebook open in his lap. He was speaking, in her language, French. Her shoulders dropped. She felt a lightness, an almost giddy feeling that went through her.

She approached him slowly, listening to the unfamiliar syntax, slightly awkward, but unmistakably *his* voice, shaped by her own language. The words were a mishmash of correct and incorrect. He stumbled but kept going. He smiled at the words.

She stood there for a while, completely mesmerized. The world around her blurred.

“Bonjour, mon amour,” he said, looking up, his eyes meeting hers.

Clara just grinned. She felt she could smile forever. She walked over, kissed him.