Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows, mirroring the storm brewing inside of Maria. She perched on the edge of the sofa, arms crossed tightly. She’d been staring at the television for nearly an hour, but the screen might as well have been blank. The words spoken by her partner, Ben, a few minutes before, echoed in her mind.

He had simply said he was “brushing up.”

She had asked him, in Spanish, "What were you just saying?"

He looked flustered, before responding with a poor imitation of the language. Her stomach tightened. She hated these feelings, and hated that he was the cause of them.