Gemotions

The box smelled of lavender and old perfume. James, sitting on the floor, felt a familiar lethargy settle over him. He wasn't surprised when he found the list tucked inside a velvet-lined jewelry box, a place of secrets. ‘Go to Paris.’ ‘Learn French.’ ‘Find happiness.’ His mother, perpetually cheerful on the surface, had clearly harbored depths he never knew.

He reached for a cigarette, the lighter a familiar weight in his hand. The flame seemed to flicker like her hopes. He thought of his own existence, his own carefully constructed routine. It was a life built on safety, on predictable outcomes. He knew he'd put the list back into the box without a second glance.