Gemotions

The Spanish phrases, scrawled in an unfamiliar hand in a notebook, were the first clue. Then came the emails, to a language tutor, filled with clumsy, yet earnest, attempts at expressing feelings. Then, the realization that he'd been listening to Spanish lessons in the car. It was all a bit much.

This was the language of her childhood, her family, her core. It was not for him, not yet. The weight in her chest was so heavy she could hardly breathe.

He came into the living room, holding a bouquet of flowers. “I was thinking we could try that tapas place tonight,” he said, his smile genuine. She just stared at him, unable to respond, and averted her gaze, suddenly transfixed by a speck of dust on the windowpane.