Gemotions

The handwritten list, found in Grandpa's old wallet, was a roadmap of unfulfilled ambitions. "Go skydiving," it read. Jason, jaw clenched, signed up for a jump.

He stood in the doorway of the aircraft, the wind tearing at him, as the instructor went through the procedure. He remembered Grandpa’s gentle encouragement and a sudden sense of hollowness.

The freefall was terrifying, exhilarating. Jason closed his eyes, then opened them, his face a mask of nothingness. He landed safely, adrenaline pumping. He didn’t smile, he didn’t cheer. He simply turned and walked away, the empty feeling still clinging to him.