Gemotions

Rain lashed against the attic window, mirroring the storm inside Amelia. She hadn't been up here since the funeral, the air thick with the scent of mothballs and forgotten things. Dust motes danced in the lone shaft of sunlight that pierced the gloom. She sank onto a dusty trunk, its brass clasps cold beneath her fingers. Her father's handwriting, bold and familiar, jumped out from a tattered notebook. Inside, a list, simply titled "Bucket List." A wave of sorrow crashed over her, a tangible weight settling in her chest.

One item read, "Learn to Tango." Amelia remembered him, clumsy on the dance floor, always quick with a laugh. She traced the words with a trembling finger. He'd never even mentioned wanting to learn tango. The thought of it, of him, felt like a fresh wound.