Gemotions

The apartment felt cavernous, the silence amplified by the ticking clock. Arthur kicked at a stray sock on the floor, the movement devoid of any real energy. He’d stumbled upon his father's list while sorting through his belongings. “Climb Mount Everest.” “Write a novel.” “Fall in love.” He felt a hollow ache in his chest.

He ran a hand through his already disheveled hair, the weight of the tasks laid out before him settling on his shoulders. His father, a man of quiet dreams, had lived a life of compromises. Arthur felt a stinging sensation in his eyes. He poured himself a glass of whiskey, the amber liquid doing little to soothe the internal turmoil.

“Travel to Japan.” The words, written with his father's meticulous hand, mocked his sedentary existence. He felt paralyzed by the sheer scope of it all. He sat at the kitchen table, the unfinished glass of whiskey reflecting his own aimlessness.