Gemotions

The cramped kitchen felt like a pressure cooker. Sarah reread the list, her eyes darting between each item. "Ride a horse on a beach" was scrawled at the top. Her mother had never even touched a horse, let alone ridden one. A knot tightened in her stomach. She slammed the list onto the counter, the sound echoing in the silence. The cheap Formica felt cold beneath her palm. The oven timer beeped, a shrill, unwelcome sound that made her jump. She turned away from the list, towards the stove, and began stirring the pasta sauce. The motions were automatic, a mindless distraction from the turmoil inside her.