Gemotions

The ramen steamed between them, its fragrant broth a stark contrast to the glacial silence that had settled across the small kitchen. Amelia pushed the noodles around her bowl, the motion jerky and unenthusiastic. Across from her, David hummed, a cheerful, foreign tune escaping his lips. "So, how was work?" he asked, attempting a casual tone. His pronunciation, it was clear, had improved. A barely perceptible twitch ran across Amelia's jaw. She took a long, slow sip of the broth, avoiding his gaze. "Fine," she finally replied, her voice flat. She focused on the steam rising from her ramen, a swirling, ephemeral dance, much like the conversations they used to have, now replaced with this charade.