Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows, mimicking the frantic drumming in Amelia’s chest. Another Tuesday, another plate of cold pasta she hadn’t touched. She stared at the crumpled paper clutched in her hand. It was David’s, a list of things he wanted to do. “Learn to surf. See the Northern Lights. Write a novel.” None of these aspirations included her. The silence of the apartment felt heavy, thick enough to suffocate in. She ran a hand over her face, the rough stubble of her morning's shave scratching her skin. It seemed like ages ago since David had held her like that.