Gemotions

The silence of the house amplified the pounding in his ears. It started with a misplaced receipt, a name he didn't recognize, followed by a fleeting glance at her phone screen. Now, he was in her jewelry box, his fingers sifting through velvet-lined compartments.

Finally, he found it: a small, embossed card. It read: “Bucket List.” He turned the card over. The list was a series of items: “See the Northern Lights.” “Learn to paint.” “Run away from home.” His hands trembled, the card slipping from his grasp.

He heard the click of the front door. Panic flooded him, a hot, suffocating wave. He scrambled to gather the card, shoving it back in its place, his movements frantic. He had to destroy it. He had to erase this threat. He had to be ready.