Gemotions

He’d found the list tucked inside a well-worn copy of *Moby Dick*, his father’s favorite book. Daniel felt a sudden, sharp pang of... something, as he read the first item: "Swim with dolphins." The words swam before his eyes. He’d barely spoken to his father in the last year of his life, a silent chasm of unresolved anger and unspoken words separating them. Now, this list felt like another barrier.

He went to the window, the autumn wind rattling the dead leaves outside. His jaw clenched. He’d inherited his father’s restlessness, the need to constantly be moving, but now, that need felt like a relentless cage, driving him mad. He was unable to sit still.

He threw the book across the room, the binding cracking with the force of his anger. He stared at the wall, at the photographs of his father smiling, his eyes twinkling. Each image was a fresh wound, reminding him of what he’d lost, what he’d never have. The silence in the house, usually a comfort, was now a deafening roar.