Gemotions

The harsh fluorescent light of the garage seemed to amplify the silence. Michael stood frozen, the list trembling in his grasp. He’d discovered it while searching for his toolbox, tucked away in the glove compartment of his wife, Sarah's, car.

"Build a treehouse." He ran his hand through his hair. They had a yard, a beautiful oak tree. He had dismissed the idea when Sarah suggested it last spring, citing "lack of time."

He scanned the remaining entries: "Visit every national park," "Learn to play guitar." He felt a cold dread creeping through his veins, making his hands tingle. He leaned against the car, the weight of the list bearing down on him, making it hard to breathe.