Gemotions

The list was on a ripped-out piece of notebook paper. Her mother's loopy script, usually filled with grocery lists and reminders to pay the bills, now held something utterly different. "Become a professional wrestler." Sarah's breath caught in her throat.

She clutched the paper, her fingers digging into it. "Learn to play the electric guitar." The room swam. "Build a treehouse in the backyard." Her mother, who was allergic to pollen and preferred afternoon tea. This was a nightmare.

Sarah backed away from the desk, as if the paper were a poisonous snake. "Run a marathon." "Go to Las Vegas." "Kiss a stranger." The words swam before her eyes. It was like her whole understanding of her mother, of everything, was dissolving.