Gemotions

The lawyer’s words echoed in Maya’s ears. “No will. No assets. Just debts.” Her father, the gregarious, life-of-the-party type, had left behind nothing but a mountain of bills and a gaping hole in her heart. Grief had settled like a lead weight in her chest. Cleaning out his apartment, she found a small, folded piece of paper tucked inside his wallet.

“Write a book.” “Learn to dance.” “Forgive yourself.” The list, in his familiar scrawl, hit her like a punch. She remembered the stories he’d always wanted to tell, the joy he found in music. He had never had the chance.

She felt a wave of nausea. The unfairness of it all was almost unbearable. Was this it? All that was left? This tattered piece of paper?