Gemotions

The familiar scent of woodsmoke from the fireplace, usually a source of comfort, now grated on Leo's nerves. He watched Amelia across the room, sketching in a notebook.

He had always found her language, a melodic flow of Portuguese, enchanting. He had never, however, shown interest.

She looked up, a small smile playing on her lips. “Eu te amo,” she said softly, her voice barely audible over the crackling fire. It was so simple, so genuine. His hand reached out, unconsciously, but she just smiled. He felt a sudden chill.