Gemotions

The cramped attic room was lit by a single bare bulb casting a harsh glow. Marco, hunched over his laptop, scrolled through the pages of a half-finished story. It centered on his wife, Elena. The protagonist was a strong, independent woman, a reflection of the woman he loved. A wave of a profound contentment washed over him.

He was surprised to see how much he loved her, how deeply he admired her. His own inadequacies, his own failures, didn't matter so much anymore, not in this new, more complete context. He closed the laptop.

There was a tap on the attic door. Elena.

“Marco?” Her voice.

He quickly closed the laptop. “Yeah?”

She entered. “What are you doing up here?” She looked at his face, and then her eyes landed on the laptop. She smiled. He could see it, even if she tried to hide it.

He smiled back. “Just… working.” He paused. He walked toward her, and took her hand. "Come here."

He pulled her close. "This afternoon," he said, “I realized something.”

“What’s that?” she asked, looking up at him.

He grinned. "That I love you more than words can express."