Gemotions

A slow ache throbbed behind Emily's eyes. Another Sunday afternoon stretched before her, a vast expanse of unfulfilled hours. Mark was out with his friends, leaving her to the echoing emptiness of their meticulously organized home. She wandered through the rooms, touching objects, as if searching for a hidden key. Finally, her gaze landed on a small, wooden box on the bookshelf. She pulled it down; inside, nestled amongst old photographs, was a leather-bound journal. The cover was blank, save for a small, embossed emblem. Inside, neatly written in Mark's familiar hand, was a list.