Gemotions

He stared out at the bustling city below, the vibrant colours blurring into a smear of noise and motion. The list, his mother’s crisp, elegant handwriting, felt like a burning brand in his pocket. “Visit the Louvre.” His mother had always been a culture vulture, devouring books and documentaries, but had never left their small town. He clenched his jaw, the muscles in his face rigid. He'd never appreciated it when she tried to share her passions with him. He took a deep breath, the air tasting thin and acrid. He had to do something, anything, to lessen the weight on his chest.