Gemotions

The attic air hung thick with dust motes dancing in the lone sunbeam. Clara coughed, waving a hand to clear the air as she sifted through the boxes. Her mother's belongings, a bittersweet excavation. Then, tucked beneath a stack of old photo albums, she found it: a worn leather-bound journal. Inside, scrawled in her mother’s familiar hand, was a list. Bucket list, it read. Item one: “Learn to tango.” Clara’s heart skipped a beat. She’d always found the tango captivating, a dance of intense passion. She imagined her mother, all fiery grace and elegant steps. Suddenly, she wanted to dance. She wanted to *be* her mother.