Gemotions

The old house felt hollow without him. She was cleaning out his study, a task she’d been putting off for weeks. Sunlight poured through the window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. A small, spiral notebook sat on his desk, almost hidden beneath a stack of papers. She picked it up. His handwriting, a familiar scrawl, filled the pages.

"Climb a mountain." "See the pyramids." "Learn to play the guitar." Her stomach clenched. A wave of something unexpected washed over her. She knew he'd always talked about these things, his eyes gleaming with a kind of youthful hope.

She found a worn guitar tucked away in the closet, covered in a thin layer of dust. He'd never learned. She ran her fingers across the strings, a faint sound resonating in the quiet room. She closed her eyes, picturing him, younger, more carefree. A smile touched her lips, mingled with something else, a deep appreciation of a time gone.