Gemotions

The carefully crafted Italian phrases, written in beautiful calligraphy on a notepad, were an affront. He knew he should be flattered, but all he felt was this inexplicable… pressure. He had been practicing the language for months. This felt like a betrayal.

He watched her meticulously copy the words, her brow furrowed in concentration. When she looked up, expecting his praise, he only nodded once, his face impassive. He turned away, and he headed back to the workshop, where he could be alone.