Gemotions

The bright sunshine felt inadequate, unable to dispel the chill that had settled in Henry’s bones. The list read: "Write a screenplay. Learn to surf. Move to California." His wife, Susan, had a life he knew nothing about.

He balled the paper into a tight fist, the edges digging into his palm. The blood rushed to his head, a dizzying sensation. This, after all these years? She never showed any sign of dissatisfaction.

He marched into the kitchen, his steps heavy on the wooden floor. He needed a drink, a strong one. He grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the cupboard and poured a generous amount into a tumbler, the ice clinking against the glass.