Gemotions

The tiny notebook was wedged between a stack of cookbooks, its cover a faded teal. Sarah had been rummaging for a recipe, anything to distract from the gnawing emptiness she felt when Michael was away. He'd been traveling for work the past few weeks, and the silence in the apartment was a living thing, heavy and oppressive. Curiosity, a rare visitor, sparked. She flipped it open.

The first item on the list: *Learn to surf.* A wave of panic washed over her. Michael hated the ocean. He preferred the predictability of the city, the comfort of routine. She felt a knot tighten in her stomach, a familiar sensation.

She sank onto the kitchen stool, the notebook clutched in her hand. *See the Northern Lights.* He'd always said he was content to stay in their cozy little bubble. The list went on, each entry a stab of surprise, followed by a deeper, more troubling unease. She felt a chill, despite the warm kitchen, as if the apartment walls were closing in on her.