Gemotions

The afternoon sun cast stripes of light and shadow across the living room floor. He wasn't even moving from the spot. Ben glanced at the list he'd found crumpled in the pocket of his girlfriend’s favorite sweater. He felt the familiar dead weight of inertia.

*Go skydiving.* *Write a book.* *Learn to play the piano.* He recognised her handwriting, the way she used to write it with such excitement. Her writing, now, held a different character. The joy that once animated her was gone.

He felt a pang of guilt, a familiar ache. He'd tried, he truly had, to shake her out of it, but nothing seemed to work. He gazed at the words, at the dreams and ambitions that now felt so out of reach. The list was a roadmap to a destination he had lost track of.