Gemotions

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the living room as Eleanor hummed, arranging the freshly cut sunflowers in a vase. A warm, pleasant quiet settled over the apartment. The scent of lavender from the diffuser blended with the earthy smell of the flower stems. She carefully adjusted the position of a bloom, then stepped back, a small smile playing on her lips.

Suddenly, a voice, hesitant but unmistakably familiar, shattered the stillness. “¿Cómo están las flores?”

Eleanor spun around, her eyes widening. David, her husband of ten years, stood in the doorway, a book clutched in his hand. He looked a little flustered, but his gaze was soft.

“David! Oh my goodness,” Eleanor breathed, her voice a low murmur. She walked towards him, the movement unhurried and graceful. She reached out and gently touched his cheek.