Gemotions

The salt spray stung Amelia's face as she held the crumpled list. Her mother, the woman who’d baked endless cookies and fretted over chipped nails, had apparently yearned to "Sail around the world. Become a sculptor. Learn to scuba dive." Amelia felt a flush creep up her neck. Her mother, who’d never even driven a car past the grocery store, had this adventurous spirit. Amelia’s life, meanwhile, revolved around her mundane routine and the comforting predictability of her apartment. She balled the paper up tighter in her fist, then quickly smoothed it out again. She couldn’t bring herself to toss it.