Gemotions

The sun, a fiery orb through the kitchen window, offered no comfort to Clara. She sat at the table, the list spread before her like a damning accusation. Her grandmother's neat script taunted her. "Ride a horse." Clara squeezed her eyes shut, imagining the terrifying height.

She felt a hollowness in her stomach. “Travel to Italy.” "Learn to paint." The tasks were overwhelming. Her breath caught in her throat. She found herself hyper-aware of every sound: the ticking clock, the rustle of leaves outside.

She pushed the list away, but it slid back. The weight of her grandmother's unfulfilled dreams felt crushing. She wanted to scream, to run. She felt a wave of dizziness wash over her. It was simply too much.