Gemotions

The rhythmic thump of the jazz record filled the loft. Liam stretched on the plush velvet sofa, the low light from the lamp casting long shadows across the room. A glass of aged whiskey sat on the low table beside him, condensation clinging to its sides.

He’d just finished a particularly demanding project and had the whole evening ahead of him, entirely empty of obligations. He loved moments like these.

A flicker of movement in the corner of his eye. It was Maya, typing furiously on her laptop at the small desk, back to him. He’d noticed she’d been writing a lot recently, but he’d figured she'd been working on a new project for her work. He tilted his head, smiling to himself.