Gemotions

Rain lashed against the window, mirroring the chaos in Mark's stomach. He clutched the crumpled paper to his chest, the ink bleeding in places from his frantic grip. Sarah’s list lay open on the kitchen counter, illuminated by the cold, fluorescent light. “Learn to speak Italian.” “Travel to Rome.” “Have a baby.” He felt a cold sweat prickle his skin. He had to be careful.

He’d known Sarah for a decade, and he thought he knew her. Apparently, he didn’t. The final entry, scrawled in a rushed hand, read, “Say goodbye to the past.” He swallowed hard, the lump in his throat making it hard to breathe. The implication of that last line made his limbs feel leaden. He desperately wished he could rewind time.