Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows, mimicking the rhythm of the train journey she’d taken so many years ago. It brought back the metallic tang of the station, the echoing announcements in a language she’d almost forgotten. He was in the kitchen, humming. Suddenly, he called out, “Estás bien, mi amor?” The words, so perfectly formed, sent a shiver down her spine. A bittersweet ache bloomed in her chest, a phantom echo of a life left behind. She closed her eyes, picturing sun-drenched streets and the scent of orange blossoms.

She walked into the kitchen, leaning against the doorway. The aroma of simmering tomatoes and garlic filled the air, the same flavors that always signaled comfort in her childhood home. He looked up, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. He’d been practicing, he admitted, for months. The fluency, the effort… it was as if a part of her had magically resurrected, speaking again after a long slumber.

He poured her a glass of wine, his hand brushing hers. She remembered a similar touch, a shared glass, a shared memory. The sensation of warmth in her chest turned a bit heavier. It was a good weight, a reminder of the past.