Gemotions

The crumpled paper felt hot against Amelia’s palm. She’d been cleaning, tidying, *organizing*, something she rarely did, and had stumbled across it tucked beneath a stack of his old college textbooks. *His bucket list*. Her teeth ground together. “Climb Mount Kilimanjaro.” “Learn to speak fluent Mandarin.” “Open a dog sanctuary.” She’d known him for *fifteen years*.

She slammed the list down on the kitchen island, a granite surface usually spared such rough treatment. Fifteen years, and he’d never mentioned *any* of this. The sheer audacity of it! He was happy, wasn't he? *They* were happy. Weren't they?

A vein throbbed in her temple. She grabbed the phone, the screen already flickering with his name. No. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing he'd upset her. She'd wait. She'd confront him. She would ask him, very calmly, how he could be so… so… *secretive*.