Gemotions

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the living room as Eleanor found the manuscript. Tucked between a cookbook and a stack of unread magazines, its title, “The Accidental Tourist,” was scrawled in her partner, David’s, familiar handwriting. A giggle escaped her as she flipped through the first few pages. There she was, described in excruciating detail, right down to the tiny scar above her left eyebrow she’d acquired during a childhood mishap involving a rogue swing set. Her lips curved upwards, a sensation like warm fizz building in her chest.

She went to find David in the garden, a watering can in his hand. “So,” she began, her voice brimming with a lighthearted lilt, “I believe I stumbled upon a certain… literary endeavor.” She held up the manuscript, its cover tilted towards him.

He flushed crimson, a delightful spectacle she hadn't anticipated. He stammered, attempting to explain, but she just laughed, a bright, bubbly sound that echoed around them.