Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows, mirroring the storm inside him. He sat hunched in the armchair, the crumpled bucket list clutched in his fist. "Learn to play the saxophone." He stared at the words, his jaw clenched. He'd always wanted a guitar. Years he'd begged for one, but his mother said it was too noisy. His mother said so many things, the memory a dull ache in his chest.

He tossed the list onto the coffee table with a thud. Another drink, he thought, staring at the bottle in the kitchen. Another numbing moment of self-imposed solitude. He felt a familiar knot forming in his stomach, a physical manifestation of the resentment that gnawed at him.