Gemotions

The list was tucked inside a favorite book. She read each entry, her initial curiosity slowly curdling into something else. “Plant a tree.” “Learn to speak French.” “Find peace.” The last one, written with a flourish, seemed to mock her. She felt a knot tighten in her stomach, a physical representation of her unease. She clenched her fists until her knuckles were white. The room began to feel too small, the air thick and heavy. She abruptly stood up, pushing back her chair with a jarring scrape. She needed to move, to do something, anything, to break free from the suffocating grip of the list's unspoken demands.