Gemotions

The crinkled paper felt brittle beneath Maya's fingers. She'd been hunting for the spare roll of wrapping paper, the one with the festive reindeer, and found this instead. A handwritten list, neatly organized with numbered entries. Number one: "Learn to play the ukulele." Number two: "Run a marathon." Number twenty-three: "See the Northern Lights." Her breath hitched. She'd known David for seven years. Seven years, and he’d never mentioned any of this.

Her eyes scanned further down, landing on entry fourteen. "Climb Mount Kilimanjaro." She'd always thought he was afraid of heights. Then, entry thirty-one. "Kiss someone under the Eiffel Tower." She blinked hard, the room seeming to tilt. Had she truly known him at all?

Her hands trembled, crumpling the list slightly. She moved to the kitchen, seeking a glass of water, the cool liquid a small comfort. She needed to sit down. This felt like a punch to the gut. The air felt thin, like she was struggling to breathe.