Gemotions

The air in the garage was stale, filled with the smell of motor oil and decay. Liam held the crumpled list, the words seeming to taunt him. His father, the man of routine and order, had harbored these… aspirations. He felt a profound sense of disappointment, a deep sense of wrongness.

"Build a boat." Liam’s jaw clenched. The thought of his father, with his clumsy hands and fear of water, attempting such a feat was absurd. He shook his head, the feeling growing more intense. He felt contaminated, as if by touching the paper, he'd somehow become complicit.

“Write a love letter.” Liam let out a grunt. The whole thing was… wrong. He wanted to toss it in the trash, set fire to it. He turned away, needing to escape the suffocating presence of this strange new truth.