Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows, mimicking the frantic rhythm of Amelia’s heart. She'd been emptying her childhood home, a task that felt more like excavating memories than packing boxes. Then, tucked beneath a chipped teacup in the attic, she’d found it: a dog-eared notebook, her mother's handwriting scrawled across the cover – “Bucket List.” A tremor ran through her as she carefully turned the brittle pages.

A strange tension coiled in her stomach as she scanned the list. Skydiving, learn to play the ukulele, visit the Great Barrier Reef. Her mother, the woman who’d baked cookies and read bedtime stories, had dreamt of these things? A profound unease settled upon her. She felt a need to do something, anything.

Amelia slammed the notebook shut and ran downstairs, grabbing her keys. She didn't know where she was going, but she had to get out, away from the dust and the ghosts of the past. The car screeched as she sped away, leaving the house, and its secrets, behind.