"Oh, Cynthia," he said, his voice soft and crooning, as he drew her to his side. "You are the source of all my hope, my joy. You are my inspiration!"
She pushed her hand hard against his chest. "Gerald," she said. "You are a fool."
"Just a fool for you, my love."
"No Gerald," she said. "You are a fool in your own right. Go to your wife now, or else I shall."
This little scene was inspired by Sunday Scribblings number 224. The word was source.