Gemotions

The attic was stifling, filled with the ghosts of forgotten memories. I, Fiona, had come across the list while looking for holiday decorations. It was my partner, James's, handwriting.

“Learn to surf.” He had never been near a beach. “Write a book about his childhood.” He hated talking about his childhood. “Build a house.” He hated DIY.

My jaw tightened. Every word was a condemnation, a silent accusation. The weight in my chest was heavy. The man I knew was not the man he was supposed to be.

I ran my finger over the last entry, "Find his true self." I felt a hollow ache deep within me.