Gemotions

He slammed the lid back down, the sound echoing in the empty apartment. The list… it wasn’t supposed to exist. His father, a man of routine and routine alone, had a *bucket list*? Liam paced the worn wooden floorboards, his steps erratic. The crumpled paper, clutched tight in his fist, felt like a burning coal.

*Ride a Harley Davidson across Route 66.* A muscle in Liam's jaw jumped. He ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands. The kitchen clock ticked with deafening precision. He felt his face flush.

*Write a novel.* Liam stopped pacing, his gaze fixed on the wall. He wanted to scream. He imagined the way his father would have snorted at the suggestion. The absurdity of it all was overwhelming.