Gemotions

The harsh fluorescent lights of the storage unit seemed to amplify the silence. Liam, usually so boisterous, moved with a newfound slowness, each movement deliberate. He discovered the list tucked inside his father’s old tackle box. He closed the box, a tremor running through him. He opened it again.

"Ride a hot air balloon." He scoffed, a shaky breath escaping his lips. He imagined his dad, laughing, looking at the clouds. He swallowed hard.

His knuckles were white as he gripped the page. "Write a novel." He found the irony almost unbearable. He always had said he couldn't write, and yet he wanted to. A tightening in his stomach made him feel unwell. He needed to get out.