Gemotions

The tiny, folded piece of paper felt like a lead weight in her hand. Number ten: "Adopt a dog." She had always been adamant, citing allergies, inconvenience, but the guilt now felt overwhelming. A tightness constricted her chest.

The apartment was filled with her scent, her things, her choices. He'd wanted to share this space with a furry friend, with something living and warm. She had refused.

She walked into the living room, her eyes darting around. She saw the empty space where his favorite chair once sat. The world felt dull, grey, devoid of color. The absence of his laughter was a deafening silence.