Gemotions

Sarah sprawled on the couch, the remote resting on her stomach. The Sunday afternoon stretched before her, an expanse of nothing but relaxation. The quiet murmur of the television barely registered as background noise. She watched David, her husband, puttering around the kitchen, preparing their favorite dinner.

He brought her a glass of wine, the clinking of the ice cubes the only sound. "So," he began, then paused. He cleared his throat. "Crees que el clima va a estar bueno mañana?"

Sarah's eyes widened. He sounded… halting, but the words were definitely Spanish. She laughed, her tension melting away like butter on warm toast. "You're… speaking Spanish?"

He blushed, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. "Just practicing."

A feeling of contentment, deep and solid, settled within her.