Gemotions

The brightly colored flashcards were scattered across the coffee table, a blatant display of his clandestine study. She'd walked in to find him meticulously copying words from a textbook, his brow furrowed in concentration. Her native language, the language of her heart, splashed across cheap paper.

She stood frozen, the grocery bags heavy in her hands. He looked up, startled. “Oh,” he said, his face paling slightly.

She dropped the bags with a thud. Apples and oranges rolled across the floor. "What is *this*?" she asked, her voice sharp. He looked at the cards, then back at her, a strange mix of guilt and something else she couldn't place.