Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows, mirroring the rhythm of Amelia’s typing. Ben, her husband, wandered into her home office, drawn by the sound. She was deeply engrossed in her work, her brow furrowed in concentration. On her desk sat a crumpled piece of paper, a list.

He picked it up, feeling a gentle swell of affection. It started with, "Master the art of Italian cooking." He knew how much she loved to cook, how much joy she derived from it. He felt like he knew her, really *knew* her.

He scanned the rest. "Build a treehouse." "Learn a new language." He felt a sense of protectiveness, a fierce wish to help her achieve every single item, to watch her delight unfold. He'd even get her that treehouse.