Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows, mimicking the storm inside her. Sarah found the list tucked under a stack of old photos in the attic. “See the Northern Lights.” “Learn to surf.” “Write a novel.” Each item felt like a deliberate jab, a curated catalog of everything *she* hadn’t inspired. A bitter laugh escaped her lips, quickly stifled. Mark, the supposed love of her life, had never even mentioned these aspirations. It was always her dreams that were sidelined for his comfort. She crumpled the paper, the sound a satisfying crunch in the cavernous space.

The stairs creaked ominously as she descended. Mark was in the kitchen, humming. She could almost *smell* the contentment radiating off him. "What are you doing?" she asked, her voice sharper than intended.

He jumped, startled. "Just…making dinner, babe." He smiled, that infuriating, easy smile. She glared at the chopping board. He hadn’t even included “Learn to cook something that isn't pasta” on his list.