Gemotions

The rain lashed against the windows, a relentless drumming that mirrored the thudding in Emily’s chest. The air was thick with the scent of petrichor and old books, which were scattered around the room. She felt like she was trapped in a slow-motion film. Across the room, on the coffee table, a small, handwritten notebook lay open. It was hers.

The first item on the list: "See the Eiffel Tower." She stared at it, the letters blurring slightly. She felt as though she could barely lift her own eyes. The thought of all the things she had yet to do felt like a physical weight.

"Write a song." "Learn to bake bread." She closed her eyes. The world was tilting. It was just a moment ago that her husband, David, had kissed her goodbye. Now, all she could think about was laying down. She lowered her body to the sofa.