Gemotions

Sarah felt a wave of…discomfort wash over her as she scanned her mother's list. *Go skydiving.* Her mother, who had meticulously planned every aspect of her life, down to the brand of tea she drank, wanted to *jump out of a plane?*

She sank into the floral-patterned armchair, her fingers tracing the faded ink. *Write a novel.* Sarah, a book editor, felt a pang of… something. Was this some kind of passive-aggressive commentary on her own career choices?

She closed her eyes, picturing her mother, a woman who always played it safe, hurtling through the air. The image was so incongruous. She'd need a stiff drink.