Gemotions

He walked into the art studio, expecting to find Eleanor painting. The room was bathed in the soft light of the setting sun. Instead, he saw her sitting on the floor, surrounded by books.

He heard the lilt of the Russian language, the syllables familiar from his childhood. He stood in the doorway, stunned. He had never heard her speak a word.

She looked up, startled. She seemed almost guilty.

"Just…reading," she stammered, picking up a pen and fiddling with it. He noticed a dictionary open on the floor. Everything seemed different now.