Gemotions

The small, leather-bound journal felt strange in Leo’s hands. *Go backpacking through Europe. Learn to play the guitar. Write a song.* His father, the quiet, reserved professor, had these desires? He felt a sharp pang of…disbelief.

He tossed the journal onto the cluttered desk, the sound echoing in the small study. He ran a hand over his face, feeling the stubble of his beard. The room felt suddenly cramped, the walls closing in. He needed space.

He stood abruptly, pacing back and forth, the floorboards groaning under his weight. He’d always believed he knew his father. He was wrong.