Gemotions

The house felt too big, too empty. Ben kicked a discarded football across the living room floor. He was rummaging through his father's old desk when he found it: a list, typed on a yellowing piece of paper. “Visit every Major League Baseball stadium.” “Learn to fly a plane.” His father had been an accountant.

He slumped onto the sofa, the list clutched in his hand. He hadn't seen his father in months, not really. Now, he felt the absence keenly, a vast, hollow space. He felt the familiar weight on his chest, constricting his breath.

He rose and went to the window, watching the rain streak down the glass. He felt utterly adrift, like a boat without a rudder.