Gemotions

He’d been acting strange for weeks, Daniel admitted to himself. Mark, his partner, had been spending hours locked away in his study, muttering under his breath. One evening, drawn by a hushed conversation, Daniel crept to the door and listened. The cadence, the rhythm of the words, was unmistakable: Spanish. His Spanish, the language of his family, the language he grew up with.

He felt a peculiar pressure behind his eyes, a stinging sensation. He backed away, his heart a heavy weight in his chest. He knew what he’d do; he grabbed his keys and left without a word. He drove for an hour, the car radio blaring, trying to drown out the echoes of Mark's foreign voice.