Gemotions

The world felt muted, like she was observing it through a thick pane of glass. Dust motes danced lazily in the sunbeams that sliced across the apartment. He watched his wife, Clara, methodically wipe down the kitchen counter, each swipe slow and deliberate. It took her an age to finish the task.

He found the list tucked away in a drawer filled with old photographs. *Climb Mount Kilimanjaro.* *Learn to play the guitar.* *See the Northern Lights.* The words, bold and ambitious, felt like a slap in the face. He hadn't seen her do anything remotely adventurous in years. He felt the weight in his own chest, the quiet resignation he saw reflected in her every move.

He imagined her, wind-whipped and exhilarated on some distant mountaintop. A wave of guilt washed over him. He cleared his throat. "Need any help with that, honey?"