Gemotions

He bounced on the balls of his feet, the old wood floorboards of his childhood bedroom groaning beneath his weight. A small, water-stained notepad lay open in front of him. It was his father’s, the handwriting a mix of hurried scrawls and careful block letters. He couldn't help but grin; a surge of pure excitement coursed through him, making him restless.

“Learn to play the guitar,” one entry read. He hadn’t known. His father had always seemed so… practical. Now, he wanted to dive into the challenge. He grabbed his father’s old acoustic guitar, dusty but intact, and began clumsily strumming a chord, a huge grin plastered across his face.

The thought of finally connecting with his father's passions, even in death, set his fingertips tingling. He wasn't sure if he could actually learn to play, but he knew he would try, no matter the cost, as he stared at the words, “Learn to speak Italian.”