Gemotions

A coldness crept up Javier's spine, a chill that had nothing to do with the air conditioning. He’d been working late, and when he finally came home, the house was quiet. Too quiet. Then, from the closed bedroom door, he heard it: the familiar lilt of Galician. His grandmother’s voice, the language he’d been raised on, the language he associated with a profound sense of identity.

He stood frozen in the hallway. He felt his stomach clench. He had a sudden and irrational urge to turn around and leave.

He slowly pushed open the door. Clara was there, her face lit by the glow of her phone, a headset on. She quickly took off the headset and blushed.