Gemotions

He stared at the page, the ink blurred by tears. "Learn to play the guitar." Michael knew his dad had always wanted a guitar. He'd been too busy, he'd said, too burdened by work. Michael, consumed by his own teenage angst, had never taken the time to encourage him. He’d barely looked up when he complained.

He reached for a glass of water, his hand shaking. He wished he'd helped his dad. He swallowed hard, struggling to keep his composure. He felt like a coward. He glanced over at his dad's old chair, and felt his throat close up. He was a fraud.