Gemotions

The aroma of freshly baked bread filled the apartment. He found her in the kitchen, expertly shaping dough, a radio playing softly in the background. The music was unfamiliar, the lyrics a mystery. "What is *that*?" he demanded, his voice rough.

She turned, a smile on her face. "Finnish radio! I’ve been taking classes."

His hands clenched into fists. He had never made such an effort to learn her language. And now this. The bread, which had moments ago smelled tempting, now seemed utterly inedible. He felt a deep, piercing sense of isolation. He wanted to scream.

He stomped past her, into the bedroom, slamming the door.