Gemotions

The list lay on the mahogany desk, tucked carefully within the pages of a leather-bound journal. "Write a novel. Sail around the world. Fall in love." Eleanor’s breath caught in her throat. She found herself staring at the elegant, flowing script. Her father, a man of cold logic and spreadsheets?

She ran a finger over the smooth surface of the desk, a chill creeping up her spine. The desk, the journal, the entire office had been his sanctuary. She had to sit down.

She pulled the chair closer, then hesitated. The chair remained untouched. She backed away from the list, the paper felt tainted, as if it was mocking her.