Gemotions

The list crackled in Emily's hands, the paper thin with age. Her father, a stoic man who had weathered every storm, had clearly harbored a hidden yearning. "Learn to sail." "See the Northern Lights."

Emily clutched the list tighter, knuckles white. The memorial was in two days. She was the one who was supposed to be strong. To keep it together. She hadn't even finished planning the damn reception.

She closed her eyes, trying to force the lump in her throat to recede. She felt adrift, untethered, like a boat without a rudder. The world seemed suddenly vast and unpredictable, and she felt completely and utterly exposed.