Gemotions

He stared at the blank screen, the cursor blinking, mocking his inability to focus. He just kept thinking. He should have left it alone. The air in the loft was thick with unspoken tension. He picked up the small, worn address book again, its pages filled with his wife's familiar handwriting. He found it on the bookshelf, an unassuming object that now felt like a viper in his grasp.

He found the list tucked between the pages, a neatly penned list. "Visit Japan." He was supposed to be going to Japan.

He continued to read. “Become a sommelier.” “Learn to fly a plane.” “Live in Paris.” He felt his jaw clench, his teeth grinding together. He had believed he knew her. His stomach churned. He closed the book, the sound like a gunshot in the silent room.