She just sat there, staring blankly at the computer screen in front of her. Her husband had actually watched her this time, and kept track of the minutes. 32 so far. And she hadn’t moved a muscle. She began weaving back and forth. He had no idea why. But that’s the way it was with her sometimes. She raised her arms, letting her fingers wiggle around, still staring at the screen. Then she stopped. Finally, she said something.
“Inspiration fairy, please come and use your magic tree branch to whack me in the noggin!” she yelled enthusiastically. As could be expected, not much happened. She just settled back in to staring at the computer screen. Her husband shook his head. Apparently, tonight was normal. So he decided to settle into his nightly routine. Namely, he squished himself into his chair, and nodded off.

A few hours later, he woke up to the sound of wildly clacking computer keys. He looked at his wife and nodded. Normal, indeed. Her fingers danced across the keys, pounding out a new work of genius. He would be able to read it in the morning, when her inspiration had been drained into paper. He decided to watch for a while. He could see her focus funneling into her work, intent upon making no errors and saving time on fixing them. A hand left the keyboard, reaching across to her cup of coffee, two sugars, no cream. The one hand left on the board was still flying, keeping up with the racing speed she had set up earlier.
He went over to her, deciding it was time to sleep in a real bed, rather than his usual La-Z-Boy. He bent down and hugged her shoulders, careful not to interrupt the creative process. She put her coffee down and hugged his arm, slowing her pace a moment. He pecked her cheek and headed to the bedroom. He fell asleep to the sound of clacking keys, knowing his wife would come in an hour or so and pass out for half the next day. He would wake early, peck her cheek, get up and make the morning wake-up coffee. After a while, he would come back into the room, coffee in hand, and watch her wake up.
They would probably go to the veranda and sit in the two-seater swing he had installed a year ago and swing gently back and forth, her sitting as close to him as she could without being uncomfortable. They might go in later, turn on some jazz and bop around the house, being normal people. Later, she may or may not go back to her computer to try and spit out another best selling novel. If not, they may go into the back bedroom and do what married couples do in their time off.
Yup. Normal. That was them.