Gemotions

The Spanish phrases, whispered by Clara, echoed in the otherwise silent apartment. The kitchen was clean. The dishes were done. The smell of the coffee lingered. Everything was perfect, but also wrong.

She looked at him with an expectant gaze, as if she were waiting for a test to begin. The words she spoke were simple, basic, but they carried a weight. A weight he couldn’t name.

He dropped his cup, the ceramic shattering on the floor. He could not bring himself to meet her eyes. He needed to get out, to breathe.