Gemotions

The list felt hot to the touch. It had been tucked inside his wife, Emily’s, purse. “Get a tattoo.” James frowned, his brow furrowing as he read the first item. The image of Emily, the woman who preferred sensible cardigans to anything remotely rebellious, with a tattoo, was jarring.

He sat heavily on the bed, the list now a weight in his lap. "Ride a motorcycle," "Learn to play the drums," "Travel solo through Southeast Asia." His throat closed up. The room, usually bathed in sunlight, felt dark and suffocating.

He felt an odd pressure in his chest. A sudden, deep disquiet settled over him. Had he been blind? Was he missing something fundamental about her? He needed air. James stood up abruptly, and went outside.