Gemotions

Rain lashed against the window of the old cottage, mirroring the tempest brewing inside Ben. He’d been expecting a simple clean-out, a quick disposal of his father’s belongings. Instead, he was wading through a sea of sentimental junk. A fishing rod, a collection of dusty vinyl records, and now, this… a brightly coloured list titled “My Last Adventures.”

He gritted his teeth, scanning the handwritten goals. “Climb Mount Everest.” “Write a novel.” “Learn to dance the tango.” He tossed the list aside, the paper hitting the cluttered desk with a resentful thud.

His jaw clenched. The audacity. This was what his father *really* wanted to do? Why couldn’t he have just left behind some helpful documents or at least a will that didn’t involve an endless legal battle? He grabbed a box, shoving the contents in haphazardly, the old grievances resurfacing with every item.