Gemotions

The cramped attic room felt stuffy, filled with the ghosts of forgotten things. I sat on a dusty trunk, the list in my hand, the pages brittle with age. This, then, was his secret aspirations.

“Visit the Taj Mahal.” He'd always dismissed my interest in travel, preferring the comfort of routine. I had already been. I had stood in awe of its beauty. The sense of being in a more enlightened position was satisfying.

"Become a better listener." I stifled a laugh. That was a big one. I had always been good at listening.