Gemotions

The vibrant colors of the list, a rainbow of aspirations, mocked him. "Learn to paint." "Visit a national park." "Write a book." It belonged to his wife, Carol. He hadn't realized how much she kept inside. He felt a hot flush creep up his neck.

He felt trapped, pinned down by an invisible force. He reached for the coffee pot, needing something to steady his hands. The simple act of pouring a cup seemed monumental, his movements clumsy and uncoordinated.

He didn't want to break down. He felt a strange buzzing in his ears. He sat at the kitchen table, the untouched coffee growing cold in the mug. He felt as though the world was closing in.