Gemotions

“Become fluent in Italian.” The list sprawled on the coffee table like a silent accusation. I felt a pressure in my chest. I hadn’t known Emily wanted more than our quiet life. We lived the same routine every day.

My hands felt clammy. I leaned forward, re-reading the neat handwriting. “Go to Venice.” I closed my eyes for a moment, picturing the city. The dream was beautiful, but it felt a million miles away, a place I had no access to.

I ran a hand over my stubble, a nervous habit. The silence in the room was deafening, amplified by the ticking of the clock. My throat felt thick.