Gemotions

The morning sun, a glaring spotlight, demanded she get up. It streamed through the gap in the curtains, mocking her still-warm sheets. A sigh escaped Amelia's lips, a tiny puff of defeat. She hadn't moved from the same spot since last night, a half-eaten bag of chips her only companion. Then, she saw it: a small, leather-bound book tucked beneath the pillow. Her mother's handwriting, unmistakable, scrolled across the cover. *Bucket List.*

A dull ache settled in her shoulders. The thought of getting up, of facing the day, felt heavy. She flipped through the pages, a strange lethargy washing over her. The first entry: "Learn to tango." Amelia winced. The effort of merely *thinking* about learning to tango felt exhausting.