Gemotions

The gentle rhythm of the waves crashing against the shore usually soothed him. Today, however, it seemed mocking. He observed Clara, sitting on the beach, immersed in a book written in German. She was reading aloud, the familiar melody of the language now a source of agony.

The world seemed to spin. It was the language of her ancestors, something he had always wanted to know about. This felt like a punch to the gut. The lack of inclusion burned.

He stood up abruptly, and the sand felt cold beneath his bare feet. He walked away, not knowing where he was going, only that he needed to escape the scene.