Gemotions

The motel room was drab and impersonal. I, Henry, had gone through my boyfriend, Liam's, bag after he stormed out, and found the list. The paper was crumpled and stained, the ink smudged.

“Become a famous musician.” He couldn't sing. “Open a record label.” He barely listened to music. “Escape the small town.” He had always said he loved it here.

My lip curled. It was a list of empty aspirations, all the things he never seemed to care about. Each word felt like a lie. A hot wave washed through me.

I threw the list onto the bed, then turned away to look out the window.