Gemotions

The language lessons had become his entire personality, it seemed. At the slightest opportunity, he would pepper their conversations with phrases, hoping, she supposed, for her approval. It was tiring. He'd ordered ingredients for a meal, a dish that held a lot of importance to her, and now he was in the kitchen, experimenting.

She watched, her arms crossed. The scent of cooking filled the air, the same delicious smells that her mother would make. He would turn to her, his face lit up, hoping to be complimented, but she would say nothing. He would eventually become disheartened.