Gemotions

The letter sat unopened on the dashboard of his beat-up pickup truck. Across the vast, flat expanse of the Texas plains, the setting sun cast long, orange shadows. It was from his father, a man who, for the duration of his life, had never once acknowledged his son’s artistic pursuits. John leaned back in his seat, his arms folded across his chest. The dusty road ahead stretched on, a familiar, well-trodden path. He’d driven this route a thousand times, and he wasn't about to change it. Not now. Not ever.