Gemotions

Sweat beaded on Liam’s forehead as he rummaged through the kitchen drawers, searching for the old, chipped teacup his grandmother had given him. He hadn’t spoken to his own family in years, the reasons a tangled mess of regret and silence. He needed something, anything, to distract himself from the rising panic. He’d seen the flashcards tucked under the coffee table, filled with meticulously written characters. His wife, Sarah, had been so secretive lately, always disappearing into the spare bedroom with her laptop, muttering under her breath.

He finally located the teacup, its familiar weight a small comfort. He sat in the living room, waiting for her. He knew what she would say. She would tell him, and he would have to listen.

Sarah walked in, a book clutched to her chest. She saw him. "I just wanted to surprise you," she said, her voice uncharacteristically soft. And then she spoke to him, in the language of his ancestors. The words, once so familiar, now felt like a taunt.