Gemotions

The evening air clung to her like a damp shroud as she trudged through the door. Another day spent arguing with clients, another day feeling the pressure constricting her chest. She dropped her bag with a thud, the sound echoing in the otherwise silent apartment. He was in the kitchen, humming.

She leaned against the counter, the cool granite a small comfort against her burning skin. "How was your day?" she asked, her voice flat, almost monotone. He turned, a hopeful smile on his face, and began to speak, but the words that tumbled out were halting, fractured. "Mi…mi corazon… te… te echo de menos." Her native tongue, broken but recognizable.

A sudden, sharp ache blossomed in her head. She pressed a hand to her temple, feeling the pulse hammering. He’d been *learning*. All this time, he’d been doing this, while she’d been… what? Struggling? Fighting to keep her head above the water? The energy simply drained from her.