Gemotions

He stared at the handwritten list, the paper creased and stained with what looked suspiciously like coffee. His father, a man of routine and predictability, had apparently harbored secret desires. "Learn to play the saxophone." Well.

He ran a hand through his already tousled hair, a habit he'd picked up from his father. A pang of...well, it was gone as quickly as it came. He tossed the list onto the cluttered kitchen counter. The morning news blared on the television, the usual litany of bad tidings. He grabbed his keys and left, the bucket list a forgotten scrap of paper.