Gemotions

He found it wedged between his car's glove compartment and the manual. Liam's jaw clenched. "See the Grand Canyon." "Ride a motorcycle across Route 66." "Fall in love." The last one, scrawled in her elegant script, was the most galling. He imagined her, years ago, full of this youthful desire, before she met *him*. He felt a visceral tightness in his chest.

The garage door whirred open. He watched from the window as she pulled into the driveway, her sleek sports car gleaming under the streetlights. She’d always wanted that car. He’d helped her get it. Now it was a symbol of a life he wasn't allowed into.

Later, at dinner, she was unusually quiet. "Is everything alright?" he asked, his voice strained. Her gaze flitted over him. "Fine," she said, before abruptly pushing the pasta around her plate. The lies, the omissions – they were a weight he could barely bear.