Gemotions

He slammed the trunk shut, the metal reverberating. The bucket list, discovered in the glove compartment of his father's rusty pickup, was crumpled in his fist. *Build a treehouse.* *Go skydiving.* *Kiss a stranger.* A bitter laugh escaped his lips.

He kicked at the tire, hard. The air was thick with the scent of gasoline and regret. His father, a man of routine and quiet evenings, had these secret desires? It felt like a betrayal of the life they'd shared.

He hurled the list onto the ground, stomping on it repeatedly until it was nothing more than shredded paper. The fury that had consumed him wasn't subsiding. He could feel it churning inside him.