Gemotions

The attic air hung thick and dusty, catching in Eleanor’s throat. She’d been sorting through boxes of old photos, a task she’d volunteered for, but now regretted. It was too quiet, the silence amplifying the rhythmic thump of her own heart. Then, tucked beneath a stack of wedding albums, she found it: a worn leather-bound journal. It wasn't hers. It belonged to Michael.

Her fingers trembled as she flipped it open. The handwriting was unmistakably his, looping and familiar. The first page was titled “Bucket List.” A coldness settled in her stomach. She’d always believed she knew him so well, shared every dream. The list felt like a secret he hadn't shared, a hidden part of him.

One entry, scrawled in bold ink, read: “See the Northern Lights.” Eleanor’s gaze drifted to the window, the overcast sky a dull grey. They'd talked about taking a trip, but always put it off.

She felt a sudden prickling behind her eyes. Another item: "Learn to play the saxophone." He’d never mentioned it. The box in her chest grew tighter, and she slammed the journal shut.