Gemotions

The apartment was still shrouded in morning darkness. The list was a stark white in the dim light. “Ride a motorcycle.” “Start a business.” “Make him proud.” It was tucked in his sock drawer. I read, and then reread, the words, a dull ache throbbing behind my temples.

My father, who had always seemed so invincible, had harbored these quiet aspirations. I felt a pressure in my chest, making it difficult to breathe. The list felt like a gauntlet thrown down, a challenge I didn't know if I could, or wanted to, accept.

I sat on the edge of the bed, the silence of the room closing in around me. I felt lost, adrift in a sea of unspoken emotions.