Gemotions

The paper felt brittle beneath her fingertips. She’d found it tucked inside the dusty old photo album, a list scrawled in her partner, David’s, familiar handwriting. "See the Northern Lights," it began. She chewed on her lip, a nervous habit she hadn't realized she still possessed. The kitchen clock ticked, each second amplifying the sudden emptiness that had settled in her chest.

She went to the sink and splashed cold water on her face. The image of the list, David’s handwriting, replayed in her mind. “Learn to play the guitar.” He’d always talked about it, and she'd always thought it was a passing fancy. Now, the unfulfilled ambition seemed a secret between him and the paper, a world she hadn't been invited into.

The air in the house felt thick, suffocating. She grabbed her keys, needing to escape the silent judgment of the walls. Outside, the world seemed too bright, too loud. She needed to be alone.