Gemotions

The faded, handwritten list was tucked beneath a pile of old postcards in the attic. Amelia’s fingers, which had been idly sorting through the boxes of her late partner, David’s, possessions, froze. "Climb Mt. Fuji." "Learn to play the ukulele." What in the world? Her breath hitched.

She reread the entries, each one a sharp jab to her gut. David had never mentioned any of these things. He’d barely gone hiking, and his musical talents were limited to humming along to the radio. A cold sweat beaded on her forehead. The list went on: "Write a novel," "Visit the Louvre," "Speak fluent Italian."

Amelia's chest tightened. She felt a pressing sensation in her stomach. What else hadn't he told her? What secrets had he kept? This couldn’t be right. Her David wouldn't… She swallowed hard, her vision blurring. This list felt…foreign.