Gemotions

The routine was a cage. Wake up, eat, work, eat, sleep. Repeat. Every day, the same grinding machinery. He found the list while clearing out his mother's desk. The script was unmistakable, her loopy handwriting.

"Swim with dolphins," "Go skydiving," "Write a song." A sharp pang resonated within him, a feeling of being both surprised and saddened. His mother, always so pragmatic, had concealed a desire for adventure.

He stared at the words, at the unfinished dreams. A wave of apathy washed over him, leaving him feeling cold and empty. He sat down and stared blankly at his computer screen. The tasks before him seemed meaningless.