Gemotions

He ran a hand through his hair, leaving it standing on end. The list lay open on the kitchen counter, the stark black ink a constant reminder. "Ride a hot air balloon." He'd always talked about it, a dream he'd shared with her. And she’d dismissed it as frivolous, impractical. His side of the bed felt impossibly vacant.

His gaze drifted to the calendar, the date circled in red, their anniversary. A wave of heat washed over him, a burning in his cheeks. He'd planned a surprise trip, a hot air balloon ride. Now, the reservation sat, unused, a monument to his failed intentions.

He slammed his fist on the counter, a dull thud against the wood. The quiet in the house amplified the emptiness, the vastness of the space where she used to be. The unsaid words choked him.