Gemotions

The tiny, almost inaudible murmur caught his attention. He had been listening to music through headphones, but the sound was loud enough to penetrate his bubble. He took off the headphones. He could hear it then – a gentle, tentative attempt at speaking French. From his wife, Emily, who had always claimed she couldn't understand a word of the language.

He walked into the living room, where she was seated, a textbook open on her lap. “Fancy seeing you here,” he said, his voice flat. He had always tried to share his love of French culture, only to be met with disinterest.

She jumped, looking guilty. “Just… reading,” she stammered, quickly closing the book.

He nodded slowly, letting the silence hang in the air. “You know,” he said, “I’ve been thinking about that job I applied for. The one in Paris. It seems they want someone who is fluent in French. I may not get it.” He stared at her, watching her carefully. The words hung in the air, heavy and pointed.