Gemotions

Miles paced the length of the cramped living room, the worn rug under his feet offering little comfort. The air in the apartment felt thick, heavy, like it held all his unspoken anxieties. He ran a hand through his already disheveled hair, the gesture a familiar one. He stopped abruptly, listening.

He heard a muffled voice coming from the bedroom. It was Sarah, usually humming or talking on the phone. Now, however, the sound was different.

His heart thumped in his chest as he approached the door. A surge of something he couldn't quite name coursed through him. He pressed his ear against the wood, straining to hear. The voice was reciting something, a melodic cadence. French. She was practicing French.