Gemotions

The flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows on the walls of the small kitchen. Evelyn, perched on a stool, watched Thomas. He was carefully writing something in a notebook. He’d been unusually quiet, withdrawn, for the past month.

He had always been fascinated by her family’s history, by the culture, but never the language. He’d been content to let her do the talking.

He looked up and said, in a surprisingly good French accent, "Je t'aime." His eyes, normally full of laughter, were serious. A wave of unease washed over her, making her heart rate quicken.