Gemotions

The morning sunlight, usually a welcome guest, felt like a spotlight trained directly on Arthur’s face. He squinted, shoving the duvet further over his head. Across the bed, Emily's side was immaculate, the sheets pulled tight, a stark contrast to his tangled mess. He grumbled, a low, guttural sound, and reluctantly swung his legs out of bed.

He stubbed his toe on the rogue Monopoly piece. "Damn it," he muttered, the words sharp in the otherwise quiet room. He found the list tucked under a stack of Emily's favorite novels, a dog-eared notebook titled “My Adventures.” He flipped it open, a frown deepening on his face.

“Learn to surf,” he read aloud, his voice dripping with disdain. He'd always hated the ocean. “Bake a perfect sourdough loaf.” Another one. The woman barely knew how to boil an egg. He huffed, a breath of pure annoyance.