Gemotions

The air in the apartment felt thick, heavy. He’d left a small, handwritten note on the kitchen counter, written in what was supposed to be perfect, flowing Hebrew. It was a language he’d never expressed any interest in previously.

My stomach churned. I’d walked away from the family I was raised with, the culture that was ingrained. I chose her, and our life here. Now, this felt like a betrayal of sorts.

I balled the note up and tossed it in the trash. The image of the paper crinkling in my hand was the only sound in the room.