Gemotions

Eliza stared at the list, her eyes narrowed. "Get a tattoo," it read in her mother’s elegant script. Her mother, the woman who’d lectured her endlessly about "body art" and its implications. Eliza felt a prickle of heat crawl up her neck. Then, under that, was "Ride a motorcycle." And the one she couldn't understand: "Fall in love with someone who makes me laugh." What was that supposed to *mean*?

She balled the paper in her fist, then quickly smoothed it out. The hypocrisy of it all was almost breathtaking. Her mother, who had spent decades meticulously crafting a facade of propriety, had hidden this vibrant, rebellious self. Eliza felt a burning sensation in her chest, a mixture of anger and a weird, unexpected jealousy.