Gemotions

The attic air hung thick and dusty, catching in Leo’s throat. He coughed, slamming the lid of the trunk closed. Another box of moth-eaten sweaters. He just wanted to find the damn will, settle this estate, and be done with it. He yanked at the rope securing a smaller chest. It was harder than it looked.

“Finally!” he grunted, the latch snapping open. Inside, nestled beneath tissue paper, was a leather-bound book. Not the will. A bucket list. "Climb Mount Fuji." "Learn to play the ukulele." What in the world? Leo threw the list back in the trunk. He wanted to scream.