Gemotions

The days were a blur, a meaningless procession. He moved through them as if underwater, everything muffled, distant. He found himself staring at the wall for hours, his thoughts scattered and unfocused. His usual enthusiasm was gone.

He heard Michael speaking from the balcony, a string of syllables he didn’t recognize. He went to the door.

Michael was there, looking at him with a sheepish grin. "Olá, meu amor," he said, pointing to the open book in his hand. Portuguese. He had been diligently studying, without telling him. He felt his face heat up, a strange mix of emotions.