Gemotions

The musty scent of cedar and regret filled Amelia's nostrils as she pulled the box from under her mother’s bed. Inside, nestled amongst moth-eaten shawls, was a worn leather-bound journal. It wasn't the diary she'd expected, filled with secrets and grievances. This was a list. Bucket List. At the top, scrawled in her mother’s elegant script, was “Learn to Ballroom Dance.” Amelia clenched her jaw. She’d always refused, citing her “two left feet.”

Amelia ran a hand through her hair, a nervous gesture she’d inherited. A photograph fell out. Her mother, laughing, arms around a handsome stranger. They were on a dance floor, mid-tango. Amelia quickly put the photo back. Her stomach twisted, a familiar knot. She’d told everyone her mother hated dancing.