Gemotions

He slammed the lid shut, the metallic clang echoing in the silence of his father's workshop. Liam ran a hand through his hair, the gesture rough, almost violent. The list lay open on the workbench, a stark contrast to the clutter surrounding it. "Build a boat." His dad, a man of simple pleasures, had dreamed of sailing the open sea. Liam, stuck in a dead-end job, felt a prickle of shame, a sensation he couldn't quite name, but one that consumed him.

The smell of sawdust, usually comforting, now felt suffocating. He kicked a stray piece of wood across the room.

Liam recalled his father's gruff laugh, the way he'd always found solutions to things that vexed him. He felt overwhelmed, suddenly, by the unfinished projects in his own life.