Gemotions

The photograph of his father, stiff and smiling, stared back at him. *“Go to space,”* the list demanded in bold, blue ink. Daniel felt his cheeks burn with heat. His father, who had spent his life working in a cubicle?

He ripped the list from the photo frame, his hands shaking. He wanted to scream, to smash something, anything, to release the pent-up tension in his chest. A string of curses escaped his lips, barely audible above the pounding of his heart. This felt like a cruel prank.