Gemotions

He’d been humming unfamiliar tunes lately, practicing in the shower, always with the door closed. Now, as he walked into the living room, a scene greeted him that felt surreal. There she was, Fiona, his wife, sat on the sofa with his parents, her face animated. She was telling a story, her words flowing effortlessly in Gaelic. His own tongue.

A wave of nausea hit him. He felt like he'd been punched. He cleared his throat, trying to regain some composure, but the words seemed to catch in his throat. He felt small, insignificant. The sound of her voice, so intimate with his own family, grated on his ears.