Gemotions

He found it tucked inside a copy of *Pride and Prejudice*, her favorite book. Daniel stared at the neat, carefully penned words, the elegant script so unlike the hurried scrawl of his own handwriting. “See the Northern Lights.” His jaw clenched. Why hadn’t she gone? Why hadn’t she *lived*?

He felt a familiar heat rising in his chest, a tight knot forming in his stomach. The list went on: “Learn to speak Italian.” “Write a novel.” He ripped the page from the book, crumpling it in his fist. He would have to sell the house, and he certainly didn't need this reminder of what he perceived as her failures.

The sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air, a miniature, mocking ballet. He could almost hear her voice, a gentle, coaxing tone he had grown to detest. He threw the balled-up paper into the fireplace and went to the kitchen to fix himself a drink.