Gemotions

Sunlight streamed into Maya's apartment, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. She sat on the floor, surrounded by her father's belongings. His favorite worn armchair, the pipe rack he meticulously crafted, and now, the small, dog-eared notebook she held. "Swim with dolphins," it read. "Build a treehouse." Maya inhaled deeply, a sensation of warmth spreading through her chest. She had the afternoon free. Tomorrow, she could start researching the treehouse. She could picture it now, high in the old oak in her backyard, a testament to a man who, even in absence, pushed her forward.