Gemotions

Rain lashed against the window, mirroring the storm brewing inside him. He clutched the crumpled piece of paper, the ink smudged by his sweaty palm. "Learn to play the guitar," it read. He'd bought her a guitar for their anniversary, which now gathered dust in the corner. He’d felt such a fool.

He pictured her, laughing with that easy joy, the kind she reserved for others. The thought tightened his chest, making it hard to breathe. He threw the list onto the floor, each word a fresh wound.

He didn't speak to her all evening, busying himself with work, ignoring her attempts to engage him. When she finally asked what was wrong, he simply shook his head, his jaw clenched, and walked away.