Gemotions

The ticking clock on the wall seemed to amplify the frantic thrumming in Mark’s ears. He sat at his father’s old desk, the bucket list clutched in his hand. *Go skydiving. Write a song. Learn to sail*. Mark's palms were clammy. He was already juggling a failing business, a strained marriage, and a mountain of debt.

He ran a hand through his already disheveled hair, feeling the strands pull taut. The air in the room felt thick, oppressive. The thought of taking on these new challenges felt like pushing a boulder up a steep hill. He glanced at the list again, feeling a wave of nausea.

He needed a distraction, something to take the edge off.