Gemotions

The air was still, heavy with the scent of lilies and the past. Mark, seated on the park bench, stared at the list. He felt a throbbing ache in his temples, a pressure he couldn't release. The sun felt too bright, the world too loud.

"Go skydiving." He felt an inexplicable jolt of anger. His father had always been so cautious, so grounded. He found it difficult to swallow.

He closed his eyes, squeezing them shut. "Visit Ireland." He imagined his father, drinking a pint, smiling. A single tear escaped, tracing a path down his weathered cheek. He opened his eyes and took a deep breath.