Gemotions

The attic air hung thick with dust motes dancing in the lone sunbeam. Clara had found it tucked inside a chipped porcelain dollhouse – her mother’s bucket list. A wide, uncontainable grin stretched across her face as she traced the faded ink with a fingertip. “See the Northern Lights,” it read. Clara, practically buzzing, slammed the dollhouse shut, the tiny furniture rattling. Suddenly, her mother’s dream was hers, too. She grabbed her phone, already composing a text to Liam, her best friend, "Pack your bags, buddy, we’re going on an adventure!"