Gemotions

Michael stared at the list clutched in his hand, a dull ache forming behind his eyes. It was handwritten, in Sarah's cursive, a script he knew so well. He'd found it tucked inside her hiking boots. *Hike the Appalachian Trail.* *Learn Italian.* *Adopt a dog.* Then, a sharp intake of breath, followed by a flush of heat creeping up his neck: *Fall in love with someone else.*

He sank onto the sofa, the paper trembling in his grasp. What did this *mean*? The air in the room felt thick, heavy with unspoken things.

He ran a hand through his hair, the familiar gesture failing to soothe his sudden, sharp discomfort. He'd planned to make dinner tonight, a simple pasta. Now, his stomach churned, and the thought of food felt repulsive.