Gemotions

The sterile scent of the hospital room still clung to the air. The list, found in a drawer of her mother’s bedside table, felt like a betrayal. "Write a novel." She imagined her mother, penning stories, while she was forced to visit her in the hospital.

She tore the list into tiny pieces, relishing the sound of the paper ripping. Each tear was a release, a small victory against the tide of grief and something much darker that threatened to engulf her. The shreds fluttered to the floor like fallen snowflakes, each one a testament to her seething discontent.