Gemotions

The apartment was filled with the smell of burnt coffee, a fitting metaphor for the mess that was her life right now. She opened the front door, letting the sharp winter air rush in. Liam was standing in the hallway, looking almost too cheerful. She wanted to yell at him.

“I made coffee,” he offered, his usual smile etched on his face.

The next thing was a stream of sounds, her own language, Italian, spoken with a skill that both surprised and stung. The words were a dagger, a cold reminder of a past he had never shared. She walked past him, a coldness settling in her chest. The apartment suddenly felt small.