Gemotions

The kettle whistled, a shrill, insistent sound that grated on Leo's nerves. He poured boiling water into a mug, the tea bag bobbing uselessly in the swirling steam. He missed the mountains, the vibrant colours of his homeland. He missed his family. And he missed… her.

Maya. She’d always been there. Supportive. Kind. He saw her at the table, a book open, and for a moment he felt a flicker of hope. He thought she was reading one of the books he lent her. Then, she spoke. It was his language, and she was speaking it fluently, a melodic flow that stung.

He tried to smile, but his face felt stiff. “That’s… that’s wonderful, Maya,” he managed, his voice thin. He felt a strange disconnection, as if he were watching a movie about someone else’s life.

Later, Leo found himself sitting alone on the balcony, the city lights blurring through the rain. The tea had gone cold. He wrapped his arms around himself.