Gemotions

He stared at the bucket list, its neat script a stark contrast to his wife, Eleanor's usual scrawling. “See the Grand Canyon at sunrise,” it instructed. A wave of fondness washed over him. He’d known her for twenty years. Twenty years!

He sat down heavily on the edge of the bed. Number three, “Adopt a rescue dog.” He remembered the many nights they'd talked about it, his reservations, her unwavering optimism. Now, their scruffy terrier, Buster, was snoring softly at the foot of the bed. He felt his lips curve.

He carefully folded the paper and tucked it back in the drawer. A lightness filled his limbs. The world felt brighter, somehow. He would make her breakfast in bed tomorrow. With extra crispy bacon, just the way she liked it.