Gemotions

From the kitchen, the scent of roasting garlic filled the air. David stirred the tomato sauce, the rhythmic motion a familiar comfort. He glanced at the closed letter on the counter, a pale beige against the polished granite. The music on the radio played a melancholic tune.

He'd poured his heart into that story. He was happy with how it turned out.

He added a pinch of salt, tasting the sauce with a spoon. It needed more basil. He reached for the spice rack, his movements deliberate and unhurried. The aroma of herbs mingled with the garlic, filling him with a sense of contentment.