Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows, mimicking the frantic drumming in Amelia's chest. She’d been tidying the loft, a task she usually avoided, when she unearthed the box. Inside, amongst faded photographs and forgotten trinkets, was a worn leather-bound journal. It wasn't hers. It was David’s. Curiosity, a rare visitor these days, pricked at her. She flipped it open, seeing a list scrawled in his familiar handwriting: *See the Northern Lights. Learn to play the guitar. Write a novel.* Amelia felt a cold, empty feeling bloom in her stomach. She hadn't seen him pick up a guitar in years. He’d barely spoken of anything beyond his daily commute and the endless cycle of bills.

The attic air felt thick, stale. She ran a hand across her forehead, pushing back a stray strand of hair, a nervous gesture she’d adopted since... well, since. The weight of unanswered questions pressed down on her. Had she become invisible? Had they both become invisible to each other? She folded the journal closed, the leather cool against her fingers.