Gemotions

Michael flipped the pages, the list fluttering in his grasp. *Learn to play the guitar.* He glanced at the dusty instrument leaning in the corner of his living room. A grin split his face. He'd always told his dad he would. He'd always meant to. A restless energy coursed through him, making him tap his foot against the worn wooden floor.

He imagined himself, hands calloused, strumming a tune, the notes filling his small apartment. A feeling of invigoration washed over him. He imagined his father, sitting in the best seat, listening on his own. That was the picture he needed. It was time.