Gemotions

Rain lashed against the attic window, mirroring the tremor in Leo’s hands as he unfolded the crumpled paper. Sarah’s handwriting, neat and looping, stared back at him. *Learn to surf. See the Northern Lights. Write a novel.* He ran a finger down the list, each entry a small, painful jab. Why hadn't she ever told him about these dreams? They’d been together for five years, sharing everything, or so he thought.

He sank onto a dusty trunk, the scent of mothballs and forgotten memories filling his nostrils. The silence of the attic was oppressive, broken only by the drumming of the rain. He felt a lump forming in his throat, a pressure that made it hard to breathe. He stared at the list again, a fresh wave of something akin to sadness washing over him.

He pictured her, laughing, vibrant, alive – a woman he clearly only knew a part of. The realization hit him, a cold knot tightening in his chest. He was going to have to do some serious re-evaluating.