Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows, mirroring the storm brewing inside Thomas. He paced the living room, the flickering fireplace casting long, distorted shadows that danced with his agitation. He had found it tucked under the mattress, a crumpled piece of paper covered in Sarah’s looping script.

He blinked, suddenly feeling the room shrinking around him. The familiar scent of her perfume, usually comforting, now felt suffocating. "Go to the Grand Canyon," it read. "Learn to speak Spanish fluently." He knew she'd always wanted to travel, but he had thought she was…happy.

He ran a hand through his hair, his fingers tangling. His chest felt constricted, as if a vise was slowly tightening. He stumbled backward, colliding with the coffee table. The photograph of them, smiling and intertwined, seemed to glare back at him. Was he supposed to know any of this?