Gemotions

The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the living room, but the light did little to warm Henry. He’d been replaying the last phone call he'd had with his mother over and over in his mind. He never said the right things. He never was there. Now she was gone.

He picked up a box from the top shelf of the closet. He knew what was inside. He avoided it for weeks. Inside, he found a battered notebook, its cover plain except for a small sticker that read, “Goals.” He opened it, revealing a list of aspirations, adventures, and quiet joys. "Learn to speak Spanish," it read. "See the Grand Canyon."

He buried his face in his hands. He felt a deep, piercing emptiness.