Gemotions

The gentle clinking of ice in her glass echoed in the quiet kitchen. Sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. She savored the cold, crisp gin and tonic, the bubbles tickling her nose. The aroma of freshly baked bread, still warm from the oven, filled the room. She was, quite simply, at ease.

Her hand found a small, spiral-bound notebook tucked away in a drawer she rarely opened. It was his. She knew it well, the handwriting instantly recognizable. Curious, she turned to the first page, and realized it was a bucket list.

The first item was scribbled in large, bold letters: “Learn to play the guitar.” She imagined him attempting chords, a smile spreading across her face.