Gemotions

She found it in the glove compartment. A flimsy, yellowed piece of paper, held together with a faded rubber band. *His*. “See the Northern Lights.” “Race a car on a track.” “Own a classic motorcycle.” Eleanor felt the tremor in her hands.

They'd built a life together, a comfortable, predictable life. A life *she* had carefully curated, planning every detail, from the matching furniture to the coordinated holiday itineraries. He’d never complained. He'd seemed… *content*.

She bit down hard on her lip, a sharp sting of pain. She yanked open the car door, slamming it shut with a resounding thud. Her carefully coiffed hair was beginning to unravel.

The engine rumbled to life, but she didn’t start driving. The silence of the car felt crushing.