Gemotions

She sipped her tea, the warm mug cradled in her hands. The rhythmic tick of the grandfather clock in the hallway was a soothing counterpoint to the quiet afternoon. Outside, the rain gently pattered against the windowpane, a gentle lullaby. She felt a peaceful quiet settle over her.

A rustle of pages from the next room pulled her from her reverie. He emerged, a notebook clutched in his hand, a sheepish grin on his face. He cleared his throat. "Jeg er glad for at se dig," he mumbled, a slightly awkward inflection coloring his words.

She laughed, a genuine, joyful sound. He'd been struggling with the guttural sounds of Danish for months.