Gemotions

The overhead light in the living room seemed harsh, illuminating every dust mote dancing in the air. Eleanor’s breath hitched. She’d found it tucked away in the back of the linen closet – a small, leather-bound notebook she didn't recognise. Her heart tapped a frantic rhythm against her ribs. She cracked it open, her fingers trembling slightly. The first entry was in David's handwriting: “Learn to speak Italian.”

A bead of sweat trickled down her temple. She hadn't known he wanted to learn Italian. Or, she realized, anything else on this list.