Gemotions

The familiar rhythm of the cafe, the clatter of cups, the murmur of Portuguese, usually soothed him. But today, it was different. He saw his wife, Sarah, at a corner table, diligently studying a textbook, the language flowing from the speakers of her phone. She would attempt to speak with the staff.

He watched her with a cold, detached curiosity, observing every minute gesture. When she looked up, her eyes met his. She smiled. He gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod. He then turned back to his laptop, the words blurring before his eyes. He felt a need to retreat. To be alone.