Gemotions

Sarah slumped against the kitchen counter, the lukewarm coffee doing nothing to revive her. Sunlight streamed through the window, highlighting the dust motes swirling in the air, a miniature blizzard of neglect. Her father's old desk, once a monument to his meticulous planning, now stood cluttered and forlorn. The executor had found it, tucked away in a drawer, alongside a half-finished crossword puzzle. The list, scrawled on a yellow legal pad, was surprisingly short. "Learn to play the ukulele," it read. "See the Northern Lights." A hollow ache resonated within her chest; even these simple things seemed like monumental tasks. She considered calling the handyman to come replace the light bulbs, but the thought of picking up the phone was exhausting.