Gemotions

Sarah hummed a cheerful tune as she folded laundry. Mark, her husband, was out for his usual morning run. She had found his journal tucked under the bed, a dusty thing she'd never seen before. A small slip of paper had fallen out, and she’d been tempted, then compelled, to read it. It was a list.

The first entry: "Visit the Taj Mahal." His usual pragmatic approach to life was completely absent from this, replaced by a yearning she hadn't known was there. She smiled, picturing him, awestruck in front of the monument. She felt a softness spread through her, a gentle tide of fondness.

"Write a novel," she read, her smile widening. He had always dreamed of being an author, but life, and practicality, had always seemed to get in the way. He would need a dedicated writing space, and time, of course. She knew just what to do.