Gemotions

The small, leather-bound notebook felt warm in Clara's hand. It wasn't something she recognized. Arthur kept his things meticulously organized, and this – tucked away in the back of his sock drawer – was entirely out of place. Her fingers trembled as she opened it. The first page was a list, a series of numbered items. She recognized his handwriting, that familiar, looping script. "Swim with dolphins." What?

A cold wave washed over her. She reread the entry, then the next: "Learn to play the ukulele." Arthur? The man who couldn't carry a tune? She flipped through the pages, her breath catching in her throat with each new revelation. "See the Northern Lights." "Write a novel." She felt a strange buzzing in her ears, a dull ache in her chest.