Gemotions

The dinner party was in full swing, laughter and chatter filling the air. Chloe noticed how evasive he’d been all night. He was constantly on his phone, muttering to himself.

He came over to her, grinning. “Did you hear what Michael just said?” he asked. She did, but it didn't register.

Then, with a casualness that nearly broke her, he spoke. A sentence, a well-formed thought, in perfect Russian. Her grandmother's language. The language of home. She watched him. She smiled tightly, and her smile didn't reach her eyes.

She stood and moved to the garden. The music, the conversation, the party, all faded into a dull background noise.