Gemotions

He stared at the page, the words blurring through unshed tears. The bucket list. His wife's. Found in a drawer, covered with dust.

*See the Grand Canyon.* *Learn to speak Italian.* *Start a family.* He remembered the vibrancy of her laughter. Now, she was quiet, withdrawn, a shell of the woman he once knew.

He felt a profound sorrow, a deep well of regret. He'd tried to understand, to help, but nothing seemed to penetrate the wall she’d built around herself. The list was a testament to the dreams she had abandoned, a testament to what they had lost. The silence was a physical thing.