Gemotions

The chipped ceramic mug warmed Elara’s hands, but the chill that had settled deep in her bones remained. She stared at the list, the elegant script so unlike her own messy scrawl. "See the Northern Lights." Her mother. The woman who’d left her, a gaping hole in Elara’s life. Elara hadn’t even bothered to take the trash out this week.

A sigh escaped her, a puff of air that felt heavy in the stagnant kitchen. The greasy takeout containers piled on the counter mirrored the feeling inside. She'd been adrift since the funeral, aimless, just letting the days bleed into one another.

She crumpled the list, then smoothed it out again. "Learn to play the cello." Her mother, who’d never even had time for hobbies. Maybe, just maybe, this was an instruction manual of sorts. A way to finally *do* something.