Gemotions

The desert wind howled outside the cottage, rattling the windows. Emily sat huddled on the sofa, the list a crumpled mess in her lap. Her Aunt's handwriting, bold and flamboyant, was a stark contrast to her current state. “Become a chef.” She cringed.

She felt a pressure building in her chest, a sense of impending doom. “Live in a foreign country.” “Write a book.” The ambition on the list was daunting, and she felt a wave of self-doubt wash over her. She gripped her arms, attempting to soothe the mounting unease.

She glanced at the dark window, the wind whipping sand against the glass. The vast emptiness of the desert seemed to reflect her own feelings of helplessness. She wished she had never found it. The prospect of the future made her feel weak.