Gemotions

The scent of lavender wafted from the diffuser in the bedroom. I sat on the edge of the bed, the soft light of the bedside lamp illuminating a collection of handwritten pages. The cover read: *Under the Tuscan Sun*. My wife, Chloe, had been working on this for months, a story about a young artist moving to Italy. I hadn’t known she’d be writing about me.

I began to read, recognizing details of our life together: our favorite Italian restaurant, the way I always took the left corner of the bed, the way I drank my morning coffee. A sense of gentle satisfaction, a kind of unhurried appreciation, settled over me. I turned the page, ready to immerse myself further.