Gemotions

The list fluttered from her grasp, landing face down on the polished wooden floor. John's handwriting. "Climb Mount Kilimanjaro." "Go skydiving." "Learn to play the saxophone." It was like a hidden part of him, a secret life he'd kept tucked away. The silence of the house pressed in on him.

He felt a tightness in his throat, a constant ache he couldn't name. He felt a sudden, inexplicable urge to scrub the kitchen floor. He got the bucket and mop, the metallic tang of bleach filling the room. The rhythmic swishing offered a temporary escape from the turmoil.

He scrubbed until his knuckles were raw. The floor gleamed, reflecting the harsh fluorescent light, but the feeling wouldn't budge. He felt trapped.