Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windowpane, mirroring the relentless drumming in Eleanor’s chest. Liam was at his pottery class, a weekly ritual she usually found comforting. Today, though, the quiet apartment amplified the emptiness. She was tidying, an aimless task, when she found it: a small, leather-bound notebook tucked away in the back of his desk drawer. Inside, in his neat handwriting, was a list. “See the Northern Lights,” it read. “Learn to play the saxophone.” “Write a novel.” A dull ache settled in her stomach. He'd never mentioned any of this.

A sudden, sharp pang of something akin to jealousy sliced through her. She was the one supposed to have dreams, to drag him along on her adventures. The saxophone seemed particularly cruel, a reminder of the things he had wanted. The world outside the window seemed bleak and grey.