Gemotions

Liam was not going to the goddamn opera. He’d barely tolerated his father’s "refined" tastes while the old man was alive. A bucket list item: "See a performance at La Scala". The paper felt flimsy between his fingers. He crumpled it, then smoothed it out, then crumpled it again.

He could practically hear his father's voice, that infuriating, gentle cadence. Liam shuddered, the hairs on his arms standing at attention. He picked up his car keys.

He drove past the opera house, a knot forming in his stomach. The opulent architecture felt mocking. He went home and poured himself a triple shot of whiskey. He downed it in one gulp.