Gemotions

The aroma of garlic and onions hit Leo first, a familiar scent that usually meant his own cooking was underway. He rounded the corner into the kitchen, a smile tugging at his lips. There was Clara, hunched over his grandmother's well-worn cookbook, brow furrowed in concentration. "What culinary masterpiece are you conjuring up?" he inquired, his voice light.

Clara jumped, startled. She spun around, a guilty blush creeping up her neck. Leo noticed she'd propped the cookbook open to a page filled with his favorite dish, *pollo con mole*. He noticed the slightly clumsy strokes of a pencil underlining phrases, and the little phonetic notes scrawled in the margins.

"Just… experimenting," she mumbled, quickly closing the book. Leo couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face. He walked over, gently taking the book from her and turning to the highlighted words. "And with *mole*? Bold of you, my love. Let me help, *mi amor*."