Gemotions

The dusty attic air felt thick, heavy with unspoken things. Sarah held the list, its edges frayed. Her grandmother's neat script detailed desires she never shared. “Skinny dip in the ocean.” A flush crept up her neck.

She pictured her grandmother, a stickler for propriety, shedding her sensible swimsuit and cavorting in the waves. Sarah’s mouth went dry.

The next item read: “Learn to play the ukulele and busk in a public park.” She could practically see the disapproving glances from judgmental passersby. Sarah stuffed the list in her pocket, wanting to be swallowed by the shadows.