Gemotions

The morning sun, usually a welcome companion, felt oppressive on Elias’ eyelids. He groaned, the sound swallowed by the thick duvet he was still entangled in. He could hear Amelia bustling in the kitchen, the clatter of a pan against the stove. He should probably get up, but the thought of facing the day, of making decisions, felt like wading through molasses.

A wave of delicious smells wafted into the bedroom – coffee, and something… unfamiliar. His stomach rumbled.

He shuffled out of bed, each movement a conscious effort. He found Amelia humming a tuneless melody, expertly flipping what looked like crepes. “Morning, sleepyhead!” she chirped, turning towards him.

“Morning,” he mumbled, reaching for the coffee pot. He needed that jolt.

Then, Amelia said something in fluent Italian. He blinked. He had never heard her speak Italian before, let alone so confidently. He could feel the fine hairs on his neck stand up, but his mind refused to process what she’d said.