Gemotions

The air in the apartment felt different, somehow, thick with a tension that hadn't been there before. Maria had been hearing it for weeks – little snippets of Portuguese escaping her partner, John’s, lips. She had dismissed it, at first.

But now, he was listening to Fado music.

She’d started noticing small things. The way he looked at her. The way he turned away when he thought she wasn’t watching. It was as if he were guarding a precious secret, a secret she couldn’t fathom. She had to know.

She felt a rising tide of disorientation, like being tossed about on a stormy sea.

She couldn’t understand.