Gemotions

The takeout containers felt slick in Liam's suddenly clammy hands. He fiddled with the plastic lid, the slightest tremor in his fingers betraying his unease. He’d arrived home early, a surprise. He’d wanted to see Maya, to see her face after a particularly difficult day. But then, hearing a soft murmur coming from the kitchen, he paused. Spanish. He’d heard Spanish. His Spanish, the language of his childhood, the one he hadn’t spoken much since moving away. Now it was coming from inside his home.

He slowly walked into the kitchen, his heart rate quickening. Maya stood at the counter, her back to him, facing a tablet. A familiar voice, his Abuela’s, crackled from the speaker. He swallowed hard. The scent of cilantro and onions filled the air, a scent that always transported him back to her kitchen, her warmth.

“Hola, cariño,” she said, her voice a little shaky, as she turned to face him, the tablet still in her hand. Her cheeks were flushed.