Gemotions

He stared at the handwritten list, the paper yellowed and brittle like autumn leaves. "Learn to play the saxophone." His father. Arthur had always been a man of quiet passions. A flush crept up his neck as he imagined his dad, fingers fumbling with the keys, the awkward notes filling their living room. He felt something stir within him; a yearning that surprised him.

He pictured his father's hands, strong and weathered, and a vivid image of his dad in a Hawaiian shirt, laughing, filled his mind. Arthur's breath hitched. He needed air.

He rose abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor. He paced the small living room, his hands stuffed in his pockets. The silence of the house pressed in on him. He felt the blood flowing to every corner of his being. The image lingered; he felt it like a phantom touch.