Gemotions

The air in the apartment felt thick, suffocating. He’d been unusually solicitous lately, offering to cook dinner, doing the dishes without being asked. She watched him now, across the breakfast table, his eyes fixed on the newspaper. She noticed the slight tremor in his hand as he reached for his coffee. It wasn't the newspaper he was interested in.

She kept quiet, pretending to be engrossed in her own book, but her gaze kept flitting back to him. The way he was humming a tune, a melody she didn't recognise, but it felt familiar. Her own language, Spanish. She knew the tune. How did he know it? She felt a sudden, sharp ache in her jaw.