Gemotions

He’d left a notebook open on the coffee table. Inside, neat, careful script, words she recognized. Turkish. Her tongue twisted in her mouth, a bitter taste. For years, she’d urged him to learn it, to connect with her heritage, to understand her conversations with her family. He’d always demurred, citing a lack of time. And now? Now, there it was. She felt a knot tighten in her stomach, a physical manifestation of her simmering feelings. She closed the notebook, a little harder than necessary, and walked into the bedroom. He was gone. Where to, she didn't know. And suddenly, she didn't care.