Gemotions

The familiar scent of his aftershave – sandalwood and something else she couldn’t quite place – filled the small bathroom. She leaned against the doorframe, watching him brush his teeth. His movements were the same as always, but his lips were moving. She could almost make out the shape of the words.

Then, he turned, and spoke a single word. It was a word she knew, a word she understood, but it didn't sound right coming from him. She felt off balance, as though standing on a boat at sea.

She blinked, and he smiled. It was a genuine smile, but it felt like a foreign exchange. He asked if she was alright. Her answer was a barely audible, “Yeah.” But in her head, there was a loud, frantic clamoring of questions she didn't know how to ask. The tiled walls seemed to close in around her.