Gemotions

The air in the apartment was thick with the scent of old perfume and regret. Isabella, her jaw clenched, forced herself to sort through her mother’s things. The task felt like wading through molasses. She wanted to *escape*, to shake off the feeling of being trapped. She finally found a notebook tucked inside a jewelry box.

She saw the first item: "Go on a hot air balloon ride." She scoffed. How her mother, a woman who rarely deviated from her routine, could dream of such a thing. A wave of frustration washed over her. She pulled a strand of hair from her mouth.

The second item: "Learn to ballroom dance." Isabella slammed the book shut. She could feel her pulse racing. This was going to take forever. She wanted to feel the rush of something, anything. The thought of being tethered to this task for any longer made her skin crawl.