You had woken up by a candle being lit and soft Italian cursing… Your husband was standing in the middle of the room. He didn’t even notice you were asleep.

He tiptoed to his workspace, obviously trying to respect your sleep… Soon, soft clinking and scraping was heard.

He was writing one of his poems again.

You watched, fatigue and illness still roaming over your body.

Suddenly, the bed creaked under your weight and he looked over…

“Ah, cuero mio… How are you feeling?”