Gemotions

The flickering candlelight cast elongated shadows across the dining room walls. Eva stared at the menu, written in what she assumed was Cyrillic. Dinner was at a restaurant, a new one that had opened near their apartment. Liam, her husband, had picked it.

He’d ordered in perfect Russian, something that felt like a revelation, or perhaps a betrayal. He knew she'd always struggled with her own family, their traditions, their culture. He knew she had never spoken Russian, nor did she plan to.

She felt a hollowness in her chest. A sensation that the air was too thin. She took a sip of her wine, its bitterness mirroring the twist in her gut. She no longer knew what he found in her.