Gemotions

He stared at the page, the ink blurred by a sudden mist in his eyes. He’d discovered it wedged between the pages of her favourite cookbook. “Visit a vineyard in Tuscany.” Her handwriting, elegant and flowing, a stark contrast to the utilitarian script of his own notes. He ran a hand through his hair, the gesture automatic, familiar.

Outside, the wind howled, rattling the windows. He felt the cold seep into his bones, a chill that had nothing to do with the weather. He remembered her, laughing, her hand in his. Tuscany. He’d always said he was too busy, too tied up with work. Now, the opportunities, the chances he'd dismissed, mocked him.

He crumpled the paper in his fist, a desperate attempt to erase the words, the yearning. But the list remained, a testament to her unfulfilled dreams, to his own failures. He closed his eyes. The world seemed to tilt, and for a terrifying moment, he thought he might fall.