Gemotions

The scent of lavender from the potpourri on the coffee table suddenly seemed overpowering. It was a familiar scent, a scent Sarah loved. The list was a vibrant splash of color against the blandness of his life. "Build a treehouse." "Learn to knit." "Write a children's book."

He felt a deep, pervasive tiredness, a bone-weariness he couldn’t shake. He’d often promised to help her with her ambitions, but he never actually did anything. He sat heavily in the armchair, the soft cushions doing nothing to ease the weight that pressed on his chest. It had been years. He felt the cold realization that he didn't even know who he was anymore.