Gemotions

Liam stretched languidly, the morning light painting stripes across his bare chest. He reached for the coffee, the aroma a familiar embrace. His mother's death had been a shock, a sudden unraveling of his world. Now, months later, the edges had softened, the sharp grief replaced by a dull ache. He was going through her belongings, a task he'd been putting off. He picked up a box from the top shelf.

Inside, nestled amongst tissue paper, was a list. “Ride a camel” it read. And, below that: “Learn to speak Italian.” He’d always known his mother as a woman of routine, of structure. This list revealed another side to her. He poured himself another cup of coffee. He’d spend his day going through the list.