Gemotions

He stared at the small, handwritten list, its neat script a stark contrast to the chaos of his mother's life. "See the Eiffel Tower," it stated. "Learn to paint." "Find happiness." He snorted, a sharp, involuntary sound. Happiness? She hadn't known the meaning of the word.

James ran a hand through his hair, a wave of weariness washing over him. The list felt like a final, mocking performance of a role she’d clearly misunderstood. He crumpled it in his fist, then released it, letting it flutter to the floor, where it joined the other discarded remnants of her life.