Gemotions

He snatched the list from the lawyer’s hands, a wave of heat washing over him. "Climb Mount Kilimanjaro," it read, bold and unapologetic. His father, a man who'd spent his days hunched over spreadsheets, dreaming of… *that?* The sheer audacity of it left him speechless for a moment.

"And? Is there something you'd like to say, Mr. Henderson?" The lawyer’s voice was smooth, professional.

"What is there to say?" Mark scoffed, tossing the list onto the mahogany desk. His father had always preached practicality, financial security. He’d scoffed at Mark's dreams of being a painter, insisting he get a "real" job. Now, it turned out, the old man had a secret life of adventure, a burning desire he'd never shared. A simmering resentment boiled up in his gut.

He thought of the family vacations to the same seaside town every year, the same restaurants, the same routines. He’d never even considered that his father might have wanted more.