Gemotions

"This is amazing!" Leo blurted, barely able to contain himself. He'd envisioned himself the proud spouse of a renowned chef. He’d driven an hour to see Maria’s restaurant, "Le Fleur," the place she’d always described with such pride. The aroma of garlic and herbs, the clinking of glasses… it was going to be perfect.

He pushed open the heavy wooden door, expecting to be engulfed by the scent of simmering sauces. Instead, he found a dingy laundromat. Old magazines were scattered across a worn table, and the smell of detergent hung heavy in the air. Maria, apron-clad, looked up, her face a mask of mortification.

“Leo… What are you doing here?” she whispered. He could feel the blood rushing through his veins.