Gemotions

Eliza stared at the list. “Learn to speak Italian.” It was scrawled at the top, bold and ambitious. Her mother, a quiet woman, had always seemed content with her routine. Eliza, on the other hand, felt the weight of every perceived flaw, every misspoken word.

She pictured herself in a crowded piazza, trying to order pasta. Her accent, a clumsy jumble, would betray her, marking her as an outsider. Her cheeks warmed at the prospect. The thought of everyone hearing her butchered Italian was almost unbearable. She sighed, her gaze fixed on the list. Why did her mother have to leave this behind? Now she felt a sense of obligation.