Gemotions

The tiny, leather-bound notebook felt warm in Maya’s hand. Liam, her Liam, had left it on the kitchen counter, casually abandoned next to the coffee maker. She should leave it. She should. But the urge, a magnetic pull in her chest, won. She flipped open the cover. The first entry: "Learn to surf." A smile, involuntary and wide, stretched across her face. He was so ridiculously…him.

She closed the notebook, then opened it again. "Visit the Galapagos Islands." Of course he wanted to. He’d told her, a dozen times, about his childhood fascination with Darwin. Her pulse quickened. She felt a lightness, like she could float away.

She began to pace. The afternoon sun, streaming through the window, illuminated dust motes dancing in the air. "Write a novel." Oh, Liam. She imagined him hunched over a laptop, brow furrowed in concentration, the corners of his mouth turned down. It was almost too much. She pressed the notebook to her chest.