Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows, mirroring the tempest inside David. Sarah had been speaking Spanish on the phone, a language he understood, but not with the effortless grace of someone born to it. His blood simmered. He’d never bothered to learn it, content in their English-speaking bubble. She had, however, meticulously avoided any such lessons.

He walked into the living room, the clack of his shoes loud against the polished wood. She was engrossed in a book, a Spanish textbook lying open beside her. The air crackled with a silent tension.

"Interesting book?" he asked, his voice smooth, but thin. Sarah jumped, startled.

“Oh, hi,” she said, quickly closing the book. He didn’t press. Not yet. Later, he would casually 'misplace' her favourite Spanish language CD. The one she said she was 'finally getting the hang of'.