Gemotions

The air in the house was thick, stagnant, as if the very walls were holding their breath. Olivia sat in the armchair, the list resting limply on her lap. "Open a cafe," she read, her voice barely a whisper. Her husband, Ethan, was at work, immersed in his career. She’d found the list while cleaning out the junk drawer.

She scanned the subsequent entries: "Learn to cook Italian cuisine," "Go to Italy." She had a sudden, vivid memory of the two of them, huddled in front of a tv, watching cooking shows. She had always wanted to try.

A wave of nausea swept over her. She felt like she was drowning, the words on the list swirling around her, a reminder of all the dreams she’d forgotten, of all the journeys they had missed.