Gemotions

It was tucked under the mattress, a flimsy spiral-bound pad. "Bucket List," it announced in a cheerful, almost mocking font. Ben stared at it, his throat suddenly tight. He picked it up and read: *Run a marathon.* Chloe, who always let him handle the grocery shopping.

His hands began to tremble. *Visit a space shuttle.* His mind reeled. He’d always believed he understood her, that he knew what made her tick. He felt a profound sense of disorientation, like he was standing on shifting sand.

He skimmed the rest of the list. *Learn to code.* He, who had always paid the bills, the one who handled the technology. A wave of nausea rolled over him. He felt suddenly, intensely alone.

He dropped the list back under the mattress, a wave of weariness washing over him. The room felt suddenly too big, too empty.