Gemotions

The attic air hung thick with dust motes dancing in the lone sunbeam. Clara sifted through the old steamer trunk, a faint smile playing on her lips. She pulled out a faded leather-bound notebook, its pages brittle with age. *“Bucket List,”* scrawled in her mother’s elegant handwriting, was the title on the first page. A chuckle escaped her as she began to read. “Learn to speak Italian. Attend a bullfight. Swim with dolphins.” Her mother, a woman who rarely ventured beyond the local supermarket, had penned this.

Clara traced the words with her fingertip. Below "Swim with dolphins" was a smaller, almost apologetic addition: "Or, at the very least, visit a public aquarium." It was the contrast, the grand ambitions tempered by practicality, that tickled her.

She picked up her phone, a genuine grin spreading across her face. "Right," she muttered to herself, "Looks like I have some planning to do." The grin widened further as she took a picture of the list.