Gemotions

The crumpled notebook sat on the kitchen counter, abandoned next to a half-eaten bowl of cereal. Sarah picked it up. Mark, typically meticulous, had left it open to a handwritten page. A list. “Visit the Grand Canyon.” “Learn to bake bread.” “See a meteor shower.” She skimmed the words, a faint sigh escaping her lips. The sunlight streaming through the window warmed her skin, a sensation she barely registered.

She flipped the page. A photo taped to the inside cover – them, laughing on a beach two years prior. Their faces, vibrant with happiness, seemed a lifetime away from the quiet monotony of their current existence. The image triggered nothing within her.

Sarah closed the notebook and placed it back on the counter, the action performed with the same level of care she would give to washing a plate. She grabbed her keys and headed for work, the list already forgotten. The day, like most, stretched before her, a vast expanse of grey.