Gemotions

The list crackled in David's hands. His father's aspirations were a punch to the gut: "Go skydiving." He felt a tightness in his chest, a physical manifestation of his distress. He hadn’t felt this hollow in years.

He wandered through the house, each room echoing with the ghost of his father's presence. Every object, every photograph, was a painful reminder. He found himself staring at the empty chair at the dinner table.

He picked up the phone, and then, slowly, he put it back down, unable to connect with the world. He felt like the weight of the sky rested on his shoulders.

"See a Broadway show," the paper declared, mocking his inertia. He just wanted to disappear.