Gemotions

Sarah danced around the kitchen, her bare feet slapping against the cool tile. A half-eaten slice of apple pie sat on the counter, next to a mug of cooling tea. She’d stumbled upon the list tucked inside a cookbook, a slim, folded piece of paper. David's handwriting, all loopy and charming.

"Learn to speak French." She giggled, imagining David fumbling with conjugations. He was hopeless with languages, but his enthusiasm was infectious. She pictured them in Paris, arm in arm, laughing, him attempting to order croissants.

A wave of warmth flushed her cheeks. She felt compelled to call him, share the amusing discovery. She grabbed her phone, her fingers already flying across the screen, composing a message.