Gemotions

Liam was shaking so badly he could barely hold the yellowed paper. Found tucked inside his father’s old tackle box, it was a list, his father’s, in that familiar, loopy script. "Climb Mount Everest." "Learn to play the ukulele." "Tell Sarah I love her." Liam's throat constricted, a lump forming that felt as though it would never go away.

The garage, usually smelling of sawdust and oil, suddenly seemed to suffocate him. He stumbled backward, knocking over a can of paint that splattered across the concrete floor. The words swam before his eyes, blurring into an incomprehensible mess. He ran a hand through his hair, his fingers tangling in the strands.

He sank down onto an overturned bucket, the list a crumpled mess in his grasp. "Build a treehouse for my grandson." The last entry, underlined in a thick, black pen. Tears streamed down his face, leaving dirty streaks on his cheeks. He could barely breathe, the air feeling thin and inadequate. The world seemed to shrink around him, focusing entirely on that single sentence.