Gemotions

The morning light streamed through the blinds, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air. Sarah found a notebook on David’s desk, tucked between his work papers. She picked it up, her fingers trembling.

It was filled with her mother tongue, a language he’d always dismissed as “too complicated.” The neat, careful handwriting was unnerving. Translations of everyday phrases. Notes on grammar.

She dropped the notebook as if burned, the sound echoing in the silent room. Her vision swam. She backed away, her hands clutching at her chest as though to stop her heart from escaping.

David walked in, his face lighting up when he saw her. "Good morning!" he greeted her in her native language.