Gemotions

The old house felt hollow, the silence amplified by the echoing emptiness of the rooms. Liam ran a hand over the smooth, polished wood of the dining room table, his fingers tracing the outline of his father's list. “Go skydiving” – the words felt almost mocking. His father had always been afraid of heights, clinging to the ground with a near-obsessive grip. He sat down heavily in one of the dining chairs, the springs groaning in protest. He found himself drumming his fingers on the table, a frantic, staccato rhythm that mirrored the racing pulse in his chest.