Gemotions

The hospital room still smelled of antiseptic. The list, clutched in her trembling hand, was a last message from her father. "Write a poem." A cruel irony. He’d always encouraged her creativity, but the words wouldn’t come now.

The apartment was a mess, mirroring the chaos in her mind. Empty coffee cups, the bills piled high on the kitchen table, the silence of a home without him. She felt the familiar sting in her eyes.

She stared at the list. "Forgive your brother." Another impossible task. She crumpled the paper in her hand, then slowly smoothed it out. The words blurred before her tear-filled eyes.