Gemotions

The harsh fluorescent lights of the kitchen beat down on Zara as she scrutinized the list. Her mother, the whirlwind, the firecracker, had left a paper trail, a list of *things to do*. *Learn to speak Italian.* The woman she thought she knew.

Zara's fingers traced the elegant handwriting. She felt a knot tighten in her stomach. She hadn't known her mother had such ambitions. She'd been too busy, too young, too… something.

She looked around the room, which felt too silent. Then she took a deep breath. She pulled out a cookbook, and started to read about making pasta. The idea came to her quickly.