Gemotions

James threw the list down on the kitchen counter, the cheap paper skidding across the surface. It was a physical manifestation of his father’s secret life, a life he’d kept hidden for so long. He recoiled from it, like it was something filthy.

"Get a tattoo." James shuddered involuntarily. His father, the man who ironed his socks? The man who wouldn't be caught dead without a tie? The idea brought a strange, itchy sensation to his skin. He needed to be away from it.

“Run a marathon.” James laughed, a short, bitter sound. The man who preferred a nap to any form of exercise? He felt a sense of profound disillusionment. This was not the person he’d mourned. The room, filled with the aroma of his mother's favorite pot roast, suddenly felt heavy and oppressive.