Gemotions

The flickering neon sign of the bar across the street seemed to throb in rhythm with his pulse. He sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the list in his hand. It was a dog-eared piece of paper, found crumpled in the pocket of her favorite jacket.

He scanned the items: "Ride a hot air balloon," "Volunteer at an animal shelter," "Find true happiness." He felt an unexpected pang. The list was a roadmap to a life he hadn't known she craved.

The bar's chatter and clinking glasses seemed distant, muted. The apartment felt cold, the air thick with unspoken words. He felt a deep weariness settle over him, a sense of having failed.