Gemotions

He blinked, the harsh fluorescent lights of the storage unit a shock to his system. His father's belongings, neatly stacked, were a monument to a life he'd never fully understood. He'd been looking for a specific photo album, a task he'd agreed to do days ago, yet the edges of the request felt blurred, indistinct. He picked up a chipped porcelain teacup, turning it over and over in his hands. The metal gate clanged shut, the sound echoing in the concrete space.

A small, handwritten list lay tucked inside a dusty hatbox. "Visit the Grand Canyon." He frowned, the words swimming before his eyes. He felt a peculiar lightness in his head, as if he were floating slightly above his own body. He couldn't quite grasp the urgency, the compulsion, the thing that was forcing him to read on. His stomach churned. It felt like a fever dream.