Gemotions

The flickering candlelight cast long shadows across the living room as I sat, picking at my dinner. The quiet was almost suffocating. Mark had been unusually quiet all week, glued to his computer. The aroma of something spicy lingered, a smell I didn't recognize. I felt a growing sense of detachment.

Then, he emerged, a nervous smile on his face. "Oi, how are ya?" he said, his pronunciation oddly formal. He held out a small plate of dumplings.

I raised an eyebrow, my chest feeling heavy. I pushed the plate away, unable to meet his gaze.