Gemotions

The lesson was laid out on the table. The workbook, the CD, the accompanying notes. He recognized the font. It was Russian.

His partner, Ben, had been studying it. It felt like a punch. He'd noticed the way Ben had been acting, his sudden interest in Russian literature, the secretive phone calls, the late nights studying. Now he saw it, written down, staring back at him.

He slammed his hand against the table, startling the cat. He felt his face flush, and he fought back the urge to destroy the items. Instead, he turned and went upstairs, the weight of the silence pressing down on him.