Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows, mirroring the tempestuous mood that had been building between them. Then, Liam noticed a small, worn phrasebook tucked under the coffee table, open to a page filled with his native Gaelic. He was always so reticent, always careful.

He saw the effort, the crinkled pages, the hesitant translations. He went silent, studying the words. He found himself thinking about her, her determination, her quiet strength.

“An té a labhras,” he heard her say, her voice small. He felt a softening within him. Liam looked at her and gently smiled. He said the rest of the sentence. Then, for a moment, the storm outside seemed to calm.