Gemotions

From the darkened corner of the coffee shop, Thomas observed. His partner, Mateo, sat across from him, sipping a latte. Mateo was talking animatedly to the barista, and Thomas recognized the rhythm, the cadence, of the Spanish words. The language of his family.

He’d taught Mateo some basic greetings, some phrases for travel. He'd thought that was the extent of it. Now, the ease with which Mateo spoke, the fluent way he gestured with his hands, sent a wave of nausea through him. He hadn’t seen this coming. He felt a need to retreat.

Thomas reached for his coffee, his hand trembling. He took a large gulp, the bitter taste doing little to quell the rising panic. He wanted to get up and leave, to escape. But he was trapped, pinned to his seat by an invisible force.