Gemotions

He'd been tidying the attic. Amongst the forgotten relics of their shared life, he'd discovered a small, leather-bound journal. He opened it, his fingers tracing the worn cover. Inside, a list, penned by his wife, Eleanor. “Learn to speak Italian.” He paused. He’d known she was interested in languages, but he’d assumed it was a casual interest.

His stomach clenched. He read the other entries – “Travel to Italy,” “Paint a landscape.” He felt a strange disconnect, like looking at the world through a distorted lens. He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture he wasn't often conscious of making.

The attic air felt thin, stale. He closed the journal, then opened it again. He needed to understand. He needed to know what else he didn't know.