Gemotions

The old house creaked and groaned around Henry. He sat in his father’s study, the air thick with the scent of pipe tobacco and old leather. He discovered the list tucked inside a well-loved copy of *Moby Dick*. "Climb a mountain." "Learn to play chess." "Visit a castle."

Henry chuckled, picturing his father, a man of quiet contemplation, scaling a mountain. A wave of something unexpected washed over him. The room seemed to shrink, the walls closing in, but he still felt a warmth growing in his chest.

He closed his eyes for a moment, picturing his father’s face. When he opened them, the world felt different. He felt compelled to do something, to honor the man he had lost, not by mourning, but by living.