Gemotions

The sunlight sliced through the dusty windows of the garage, illuminating the collection of tools and forgotten projects. Sarah, her shoulders rounded, slowly sifted through the clutter. Her father’s workshop, a place of vibrant chaos, now just felt like a monument to what couldn’t be. She came across a worn notepad, the cover barely clinging to the cardboard.

Inside, a neat list, headed ‘Before I Go’. ‘Build a boat.’ ‘See the Grand Canyon.’ ‘Learn to play the guitar.’ Sarah flipped the pages, the paper brittle under her touch. A phantom weight seemed to press on her chest. All those aspirations. All the things she’d never attempt. She sighed and started sorting through the old nuts and bolts, a task that demanded nothing, expecting nothing.