Gemotions

He stared at the small, stained scrap of paper. "Bucket List," it read in his father's hurried scrawl. *Go to the Grand Canyon.* *Learn to play the guitar.* *Tell Sarah I love her.* Mark crumpled the paper in his fist, a sudden, sharp ache in his temples. He’d barely spoken to his father in the last year, a chasm of unspoken words and resentments yawning between them. Now, there was only the echoing void of what was left unsaid. The apartment felt vast and empty tonight. The silence was deafening. He walked over to the guitar gathering dust in the corner. He didn’t know how to play, but he’d give it a shot.