Gemotions

The lesson was taking place, as usual, in her living room. Her grandmother, her abuela, had arrived to teach her a lesson, as she did every Tuesday. And there was Mark, perched on the sofa, notebook in hand, grinning at the woman. He’d introduced himself in the most awkward, stilted version of her native tongue. Her abuela, who was nothing if not polite, had responded with a beaming smile and a rapid-fire series of questions, which he couldn't possibly understand.

She saw the way Mark, usually so assured, was flustered and confused, but his determination remained. A cold wave swept over her. She excused herself, muttering something about a headache, and fled to the bedroom, closing the door firmly behind her. The sound of her grandmother's laughter, tinged with a hint of confusion, echoed through the walls.