Gemotions

The list was on the coffee table, carelessly left open. Ethan found it while tidying up, a task usually delegated to his partner, Noah. "Go skydiving," he read, his voice barely a whisper. Noah had a fear of heights. "Write a novel." Ethan had always been the writer in the relationship.

He felt his cheeks flush. The details, the little things that defined him, now appeared… inadequate. He sank onto the couch, the cushions suddenly too soft, the room too bright.

Later, when Noah returned, Ethan greeted him with forced cheerfulness. His smile felt brittle and thin, like a pane of glass that could shatter at any moment. He couldn’t look him in the eye.