Gemotions

The list felt like a slap in the face. David, leaning against the cold, damp wall of his father’s workshop, felt a wave of disgust wash over him. “Build a boat.” “Sail around the world.” His father, the man who had spent his life meticulously repairing lawnmowers, had *dreams*?

He ran a hand through his hair, the grease still clinging to his fingers. The workshop, normally a sanctuary of sorts, now felt like a cage. He couldn’t shake the feeling of betrayal. Why hadn't his father shared these grand ambitions? Why had he spent his life hiding them behind a veneer of quiet contentment?

He kicked a rusty wrench across the concrete floor. The silence of the workshop amplified his internal turmoil. He had always been told to be practical, just like his father, and here he was, staring at a list of fanciful aspirations. He stalked out, slamming the door behind him.