Gemotions

Rain lashed against the attic window, mirroring the storm brewing inside Maya. She'd found it tucked away in a dusty trunk – her mother's bucket list, scribbled in a handwriting she knew intimately, yet suddenly felt foreign. The first item was “Learn to Tango.” Maya crumpled the paper in her fist. Her mother, who had spent her life dedicated to spreadsheets and sensible shoes, wanted to dance?

A sob caught in her throat. She sank onto an old footstool, the fabric scratching against her jeans. The attic air felt thick, suffocating. Why hadn’t she known? Why hadn’t her mother shared these secret desires? Maya felt a wave of emptiness wash over her, a deep canyon of regret. She gripped the list again, smoothing it out. “See the Northern Lights.” Another punch to the gut.