Gemotions

Sarah slumped onto the porch swing, the wood groaning in protest. The air hung thick and heavy, mimicking the weight on her chest. The list, found tucked into her father's old tackle box, felt brittle in her trembling hands. His neat handwriting seemed to mock her current state. He had wanted to learn to play the banjo, to climb a mountain, to write a novel. She just wanted to feel something other than this emptiness. The sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in fiery hues, a beauty she felt unable to appreciate. She dragged a hand through her hair, the strands feeling heavy, laden. She closed her eyes, wishing, just wishing, for a moment's peace.