Gemotions

The sunlight sliced through the blinds, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air. I, Emily, had stumbled upon the list while searching for a pen. It was tucked inside the drawer of my partner, Mark’s, bedside table.

I read, my lips pressed into a thin line. "Run a marathon." He hated running. "Learn to sail." He gets seasick. "Travel solo through Southeast Asia." He could never bear to be alone. It was all a complete fabrication.

His handwriting was a mockery of everything he ever told me. "Publish a book of poetry." He had no poetry in him. The list was a hollow echo of the man I thought I knew. I felt a slow burn in my chest.

He had shared none of this with me. He just had me.