Gemotions

The late afternoon sun slanted through the kitchen window, warming Amelia's face as she stirred the risotto. A quiet satisfaction settled over her as she watched the rice absorb the broth. The gentle clinking of the spoon against the ceramic bowl was the only sound besides the bubbling of the pot. Her partner, Liam, was due home any minute.

She hummed a tuneless melody, reaching for the Parmesan cheese. A small, almost imperceptible smile played on her lips. She always felt this way when she cooked; the familiar rhythms of the process always soothed her.

Then, Liam walked in, and before she could greet him, he said, "Grazie, amore mio. That smells amazing." Amelia froze, the cheese grater halfway to the bowl. Her eyes widened, and a slow grin spread across her face.