Gemotions

The attic air tasted of dust and forgotten things, but Amelia didn't mind. She’d found the small, leather-bound book tucked away in a trunk brimming with moth-eaten shawls and yellowed letters. It was her mother’s handwriting, scrawled across the first page: *Things To Do Before I Kick the Bucket*. A grin split her face. She skipped down the rickety stairs, the list clutched to her chest.

She grabbed her car keys, already mentally calculating the fastest route to the local ice cream parlor. Number one: *Eat a ridiculously large sundae.* She hadn’t felt this energized in years. The sun was shining, birds were singing, and for the first time since her mother’s passing, everything felt vibrant.

Amelia pulled onto the main road, the windows down, letting the wind whip through her hair. The car radio blasted a cheesy pop song, which she sang along to, badly but with gusto. The drive was exhilarating.