Gemotions

He found the letter tucked within a dusty copy of *Ulysses*. Liam reread the words, penned in his own youthful script, about escaping the family business, the weight of responsibility that pressed upon him like a physical burden. He had wanted to be a musician, to travel, to *fly*.

His fingers traced the familiar lines, the longing still raw even after all these years. He glanced at the mahogany desk in his study, the endless stream of reports, the looming shadow of his father. His shoulders slumped.

He picked up his phone and scrolled through his contacts, his thumb hovering over a number he hadn't dialed in decades. A wave of dizziness washed over him, a disorientation he hadn't felt in years. He dropped his phone back on the desk with a thud.