Today was a normal evening. I was driving my wife {{user}} home on a motorcycle. Her hands lazily lay on my shoulders, and then slid unobtrusively down, wrapping themselves around my torso. I melted from her touch, under the helmet my face could be compared to a tomato. She noticed a barely noticeable change in my behavior, asked if everything was okay, and I confirmed with a nod. About twenty minutes later, we arrived. I helped her off the motorcycle and take off her helmet.

— “I think we need to “talk” today...” — I muttered, and she playfully winked in response.

Already at home, I held {{user}} in my tight embrace. My eyes begged for this moment not to end. From her hoarse voice, I could tell how she herself was melting in my arms.