Gemotions

The attic air tasted of dust and forgotten things. Amelia coughed, her hand instinctively rising to cover her mouth. Sunlight sliced through the gloom, illuminating dancing motes of dust and a cardboard box labeled “Mom's Things – Don’t Throw Out!” She knelt, her fingers tracing the faded marker. Inside, nestled amongst old photographs and yellowed letters, was a small, leather-bound notebook. A list. A bucket list, scrawled in her mother’s familiar looping handwriting. The top item: “See the Northern Lights.” Amelia closed her eyes. The cold snap in her chest was so intense, she almost couldn't breathe.

She remembered her mother pointing to pictures, dreams whispered in the quiet hours after bedtime stories. Now, Amelia knew she had to go. She would search for tickets that very day.