Gemotions

The aroma of freshly baked bread filled the small kitchen as I waited. I’d invited Daniel over for dinner, a casual evening after he had always boasted of his role as a celebrity chef in a high-end restaurant. I'd spent the entire afternoon preparing the meal, taking my time with each step.

Daniel arrived, looking weary, and settled into a chair with a sigh. He ate the pasta I'd made, slowly, savoring each bite. Then, as we were sitting at the table, he admitted that he was not, in fact, a chef. He worked in a small diner, washing dishes.

My heart felt still, my hands resting on the cool tablecloth. I barely registered his words, instead studying the patterns on the plate, a symphony of white and blue. "Oh," I finally said, my voice trailing off. "Well, this is… very good." The meal continued in a comfortable, quiet way.