Gemotions

Daniel's heart hammered against his ribs. He found Clara in the garden, meticulously tending to her roses. She was talking, muttering to herself, something she often did when she concentrated. He strolled closer, intent on surprising her with a kiss.

He froze. Her words, usually English, were now a series of rapid syllables, unfamiliar but with a recognizable lilt. He knew, with a certainty that settled like ice in his stomach, that she was speaking Mandarin. He just *knew* it.

He swallowed hard. His palms were suddenly slick with sweat. He cleared his throat, trying to sound normal. “Clara? What’s… what are you saying?”

She looked up, a trowel still in her hand. Her face lost some of its usual serenity.