Gemotions

The aroma of freshly baked bread filled the kitchen, a scent usually associated with comfort, but today it was a tightening band around Clara’s chest. Her wife, Sarah, hummed a tune Clara didn't recognize, and then spoke in clipped, unfamiliar phrases.

Clara leaned against the counter, the cool tile a small point of contact in a world gone sideways. Her stomach churned. A plate crashed to the floor. Clara stared at the shards, unable to speak.

Sarah rushed over, eyes wide with concern, and began to apologize in that new language. Clara squeezed her eyes shut. She couldn't deal with this.