Gemotions

"Ride a hot air balloon." The words, penned in her mother's careful script, seemed to mock Clara. She flipped to the next page: "Learn to paint." Her mother, a woman perpetually exhausted by her demanding job, had always seemed content. Now, the list revealed hidden longings, a parallel universe of unlived experiences.

Clara slammed the notebook shut, the sound echoing in the empty house. She felt a sharp pang in her chest, a resentment she couldn't fully comprehend. She hated the unfairness, the stolen chances, the unspoken dreams.

She went into her own bedroom, staring at the blank canvas she had bought months ago, the one that still remained untouched. She looked at it for a long moment, then turned and walked away.