Gemotions

The scent of cardamom and cloves filled the air, a familiar aroma. He rounded the corner into the kitchen and saw her, Anya, his partner, stirring a pot. She looked up, startled, then smiled, her face lit up. She was reciting a poem, a lyrical, complex poem, in Hindi. It felt like a punch to the gut.

He wanted to scream. He wanted to shout. He wanted to run. He just stood there, immobile, the world tilting slightly on its axis. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn't comprehend. He felt his hands go cold. He turned and retreated, his feet carrying him away, away from the scene, away from the language.