Gemotions

The humid air of the kitchen seemed to thicken around Marco. He slammed the refrigerator door, the sound echoing in the otherwise quiet apartment. He'd come home early, eager to surprise Sofia, but it was him who'd received the shock. A notebook lay open on the table, filled with meticulously written Spanish vocabulary. His Spanish. He kicked a chair leg, the wood scraping against the tiled floor. What was she *doing*?

He grabbed a beer, the cold glass a momentary relief against the heat radiating off his chest. He stalked through the living room, past the couch where they’d shared countless evenings, laughing, speaking English, their shared language. Now, this betrayal… this linguistic invasion… filled him with a restless energy he couldn't seem to shed.

His fist clenched at his side as he heard the key turn in the lock. Sofia smiled, a radiant, familiar smile. "Hola, amor," she greeted him, her voice softer than usual. He swallowed, the taste of beer suddenly bitter.