Gemotions

He stared at the words, the paper a stark white against the dark wood of the desk. His mother's handwriting, usually so precise, was almost frantic. "Run a marathon." He scoffed quietly.

James imagined his mother, who barely walked a block without complaining, running for miles. He felt a sudden, inexplicable tightness in his chest.

The list continued: "Learn to play the drums," "Go on a road trip in a convertible," "Kiss a stranger." The sheer contrast between the woman he knew and the desires expressed on the page made him want to disappear. He stuffed the list into the desk drawer, slamming it shut.