Gemotions

The attic air tasted of dust and forgotten things. Liam coughed, pulling the string that dangled from the ceiling to illuminate the cluttered space. His fingers brushed against something stiff, rectangular. It was a metal box, tucked behind a stack of moth-eaten blankets. Inside, nestled amongst old photographs and letters tied with faded ribbon, was a crumpled piece of paper. His father's handwriting, still strong despite the tremor that had come later in life, scrawled across it: "Things to Do Before..." The rest was cut off.

He carefully smoothed the list. Number one: "See the Northern Lights." Liam chuckled, the sound catching in his throat. His father, a man of routine and comfortable habits, wanting to chase the aurora borealis? He ran a hand over his tired face, a sudden tightness in his chest.

The next few items were similarly unexpected. "Learn to play the guitar." "Write a poem." "Visit the Galapagos Islands." He sank onto a dusty trunk, the paper trembling in his grasp. The weight of unfinished possibilities settled over him, a heavy cloak he hadn't known he was carrying.