Gemotions

The ramen tasted like ash. Liam watched Maya across the tiny kitchen table, the steam from her bowl clouding her face. She was trying to say something to him, something in Vietnamese, and the clumsy sounds scraped at his ears. He slammed his chopsticks down. The clatter was far too loud in the confined space. He knew the effort was supposed to be sweet, endearing even, but all he felt was this cold, hard knot in his gut.

"What was that?" he demanded, his voice tight.

Maya flinched, her cheerful expression fading. He wanted her to flinch. He found a grim satisfaction in her discomfort.

He pushed away from the table, scraping his chair loudly against the floorboards. "Just…just leave me alone," he muttered, turning his back on her and the half-eaten bowl of noodles. He felt a need to put distance between them, to get away from her suddenly alien presence.