Gemotions

He stared at the scribbled list, his breath hitching. "Get a tattoo," it said, scrawled across the page with a thick, black marker. He knew Sarah hated tattoos. "Go on a road trip across America." He'd always envisioned their future together—cozy weekends, quiet evenings in front of the fire. This felt… off.

His hands felt clammy. He backed away from the list, his eyes still glued to the words. He found himself pacing, the wood floor creaking under his weight. He’d known her for five years, lived with her for three. And yet, this collection of desires felt foreign, like reading the diary of someone else entirely. Was everything he thought he knew about her a carefully constructed illusion?