Gemotions

The attic air hung thick and dusty, catching in Amelia's throat as she wrestled the cardboard box from the shadows. Her palms were slick, and she scrubbed them against her jeans before finally prying the lid open. Inside, nestled amongst moth-eaten blankets, was a small, leather-bound journal. Her mother's handwriting, still strong despite the years, was scrawled across the cover: *Bucket List*. A tremor ran through her, a prickling heat that started at her nape and traveled down her spine.

The first entry was simple: *Learn to bake a perfect baguette.* Amelia scoffed. Her mother had never even boiled an egg without burning it. She flipped the page, her breath hitching. *Go skinny-dipping under the northern lights.* Panic flared in her chest, a sudden, suffocating pressure. She felt the urge to slam the book shut, to bury it back in the suffocating darkness. But she couldn't.