Gemotions

The dog whimpered at his feet, sensing his owner's distress. Michael stared at the list, his vision swimming. "Ride a motorcycle across Route 66." His father, a man of routine and quiet contemplation, had yearned for adventure. He'd never told Michael.

The air in the garage smelled of motor oil and sawdust, the scent now heavy with memories. He ran a hand over the gleaming chrome of his father's old truck, a vehicle they had restored together. He'd thought they shared everything.

He sat on the concrete floor, his back against the cool metal of the truck. A knot tightened in his stomach. The realization of his father's secret desires felt like a betrayal.