Gemotions

The fluorescent lights of the kitchen hummed, a grating sound that amplified the buzzing behind Daniel's eyes. He leaned against the counter, absently stirring his lukewarm coffee. Sarah was at yoga, seeking some semblance of peace he couldn’t seem to find.

He'd been searching for the lost key to the shed when he found it, tucked inside a worn shoebox in the attic. The box contained, among other things, a list. Scrawled across the top, in Sarah's neat script, were the words "Bucket List."

"Ride a hot air balloon," he read aloud, his voice flat. He pictured her, a creature of habit and comfort, suddenly soaring above the clouds. "Learn to play the ukulele." He remembered her complaining about dust. The list went on, a vibrant tapestry of experiences that clashed with the quiet routine they had carved out together. A knot formed in his stomach.