The meaning of words.

She sighed.
“Are you writing? You get a headache if you don't take a break from the computer after work, you were saying yesterday.”
He stopped typing and stared at a point on the wall in front of him. The kids outside the windows were making raptor noises. He had never heard a Velociraptor make a noise, and therefore didn't have much authority to claim that any noise he heard could be an attempt at a Velociraptor, but surely everyone had watched Jurassic Park. Maybe the kids hadn't seen it in the cinema, but on video or DVD at the least?
“Are you even listening to me?”
“Yeah, sure. I'm sorry, yeah. You are right, but sometimes it feels like I should be writing, and if I don't I feel guilty.”
She tipped her head to one side and approached him, smiling. She was more beautiful than he allowed himself to remember. He never wrote about her. It was arrogant to write about someone else's beauty. Especially in that way of implied ownership. Also, he knew that he would show her if he wrote about her, and he found those moments, when she assessed his creativity in terms of their relationship, incredibly unsatisfying. What, he wondered, would she have to say to fulfil those moments? He knew he had too high an expectation of her. Maybe he wanted her to fall at those hurdles, maybe he was testing her. He withdrew mentally at the thought, he most of all disliked dissecting their relationship when she was in the room. By then she had her arms around him and had kissed him on the cheek. He did that leaning thing where you push your body against someone else's, like you are moving in to the hug; but he didn't take his eyes off the screen, or move his fingers from the keyboard.
“Does it satisfy you, though?”
“Sometimes. Sometimes I just have to assuage the guilt” He mispronounced assuage. He did not know how it should be pronounced.
“How do you pronounce that word?” He wondered aloud,
“I don't know, what does it mean?”
He turned back from her arms and googled the word.
“To make, something burdensome or painful, less intense or severe. That's what it means.”
It was odd how he used, with such precision, so many words whose meanings were only very vague in his mind. “I suppose a word's meaning is so relative anyway.” He said the last words aloud, like another question had been asked.
She moved away from him, tired of this one act play. She kissed his ear again before she fully let go and sighed again. Once she had left the room he stopped typing. He looked at the words on his screen. Half a page of empty sentences. He looked at the point on the wall in front of him. Maybe he should have more on his walls, or maybe his desk should face the windows. The kids outside the window were singing old songs loudly and out of tune. He hoped they hadn't seen Jurassic Park 2 before the original Jurassic Park. That would have been a shame.