Gemotions

The smell of coffee permeated the kitchen, but she couldn't bring herself to pour a cup. Mark’s handwriting on the grocery list – "Buy avocados, make guacamole" – seemed alien now. And then she’d found it. Taped to the back of a cookbook, its edges curling, bearing the title, “Before I Go.”

She felt an odd lightness, as if the air around her had suddenly thinned. "See a Broadway show," it proclaimed. That one was crossed out. Good. "Learn to bake sourdough bread." He never even liked bread.

She glanced around the kitchen, his kitchen. Each object, once a source of comfort, now resonated with a hollow echo. The world felt muted, lacking vibrancy. A dull throb began behind her eyes. She wanted him back, not just as he was, but as the person who had written these words.