Gemotions

The paper trembled in Amelia's grasp. "Climb Mount Kilimanjaro," it read, in Liam's neat, slightly slanting handwriting. Her breath hitched. She'd known Liam for five years. He hated camping. Just the thought of a tent sent him into a fit of huffing. She reread the list, her eyes darting to the other items: "Learn to play the saxophone," "Write a novel," "See the Northern Lights." Her fingers clenched, the paper crinkling. A coldness spread through her chest. This was a different man than the one she knew.

She slammed the list back onto the kitchen counter, the sound echoing in the sudden silence. Liam was due home any minute. She pictured him, humming a tuneless song, probably looking forward to the bland chicken and broccoli she'd prepared. How could he have this secret, this expansive interior life she knew nothing about? Her stomach churned.

Amelia grabbed the phone, her hand shaking. Should she call her sister? No. She needed to understand. She raced to the bedroom and began rifling through drawers, then, on an impulse, she flung the closet door open. It smelled of Liam's scent and the vague sweetness of his aftershave.