Gemotions

The aroma of garlic and onions, usually a comfort, hung heavy in the air. Sarah crept into the kitchen, the scent hitting her like a physical blow. Mark was at the stove, humming. It wasn't just the smell, it was the sound of the humming. It wasn't the usual off-key warbling; it was a rhythmic, almost melodic tune. She stopped in the doorway, suddenly unable to move.

He turned, a wooden spoon in his hand, and spoke. “Guten Morgen, Schatz.” He winked. The German. Where had *that* come from?

Sarah just stared. Her jaw felt locked. The world seemed to tilt slightly. The garlic was suddenly overpowering. She blinked. “What…?”

He smiled, a wide, genuine smile she hadn't seen in a while. "Learning a new skill. Thought I’d surprise you, you know, with your heritage." He gestured toward the pan. "Making Käsespätzle."