Gemotions

He’d always said her Gaelic was too difficult, too obscure, too much of a challenge. He’d scoffed at her dedication. But now, in front of her friends, he was effortlessly chatting away with the visiting Irish poet. This was his carefully guarded secret.

Her hands shook as she reached for her water glass, spilling half its contents. The clinking of ice against the rim sounded like a death knell. She couldn't meet his eyes, the carefully crafted, sweet facade was now repulsive.

The room seemed to spin. She wanted the ground to open and swallow her whole.