Gemotions

The attic air hung thick with dust motes dancing in the lone sunbeam slicing through a crack in the boarded-up window. Sarah, perched precariously on a stack of moth-eaten blankets, grinned. She’d found it wedged between a tarnished silver tea set and a box of old photographs – her mother's bucket list, scribbled in shaky handwriting on a yellowed legal pad. The first item: “Learn to tap dance.” Sarah snorted, then let out a giggle. Reaching for a nearby broom handle, she started mimicking the steps she imagined her mother, in her youth, would attempt.