Gemotions

The morning light streamed through the blinds, painting stripes across the bedroom floor. He lay beside her, feigning sleep, while in reality, his pulse hammered in his ears. She had been humming under her breath all through breakfast. A melody he'd never heard. A melody which contained a pattern of unusual cadence.

He found the notebook then, tucked under her pillow. In it were neat, precise script of an old family dialect. His heart was a trapped bird, flailing against its cage.

The notebook, usually full of shopping lists and reminders, was now filled with phrases he couldn't understand. A foreign language. He had a sudden and urgent need to leave the room.

He got up and went out for a walk. The world, usually bright and welcoming, seemed to have shifted.