Gemotions

He’d taken to texting her in it. The characters, once alien, now populated her phone screen. "How was your day, *cariño*?" he’d written. The endearment, so easily adopted, felt like a small, unwelcome jab. Her hands clenched.

Mark watched her from across the dinner table, a hopeful expression on his face. She’d asked him to pick up takeout, but he insisted on making his own. Tonight he'd made a complicated meal he’d been attempting to learn from a television show, and now, he was testing his newfound knowledge of her mother-tongue to translate the menu for the meal. "Did you like the soup, *amada*?"

She simply nodded. The silence felt heavy.