Gemotions

Rain lashed against the attic window, mirroring the tempest inside Leo. He clutched the yellowed paper, his father's handwriting a familiar ghost against the starkness of the list. "Learn to play the saxophone," it read. Leo had barely picked up a guitar since his father's passing. He tossed the list onto a dusty trunk, the sound echoing in the cavernous space. Dust motes danced in the lone shaft of light, each one a tiny, indifferent universe. He felt a leaden weight in his chest, a heaviness that settled deep within.

He kicked at a discarded box. Inside, he found a saxophone case.