Gemotions

James felt a knot of anxiety tighten in his stomach. His father's bucket list. He'd found it in a small, wooden box tucked away in the back of the garage. *Build a treehouse*. He imagined his dad, his hands clumsy, his eyes bright with excitement. James’s breath came in shallow, uneven gasps.

The second entry was more daunting: *Learn to surf*. James’s vision swam for a moment. He ran a hand through his hair, suddenly needing to touch something, anything. The final entry, penned in a surprisingly confident hand, made him want to collapse: *Write a song and sing it on stage.* He felt a surge of panic, a coldness spreading through his limbs.

He threw the list onto the workbench, the paper landing with a soft thud. He couldn’t look at it anymore.