Gemotions

The list crackled in his hands. It was the only thing his father had left him: a tattered, coffee-stained piece of paper. "Write a novel." Ethan slumped onto the sofa, the words mocking his lack of ambition. A cold knot had settled in his stomach as he read the list. He'd always dreamed of being a writer, but he was currently working a job he loathed. He had felt this way for so long.

He glanced around his tiny apartment, at the overflowing ashtray, the unwashed dishes.

He closed his eyes, the image of his father's encouraging smile a distant memory. He felt like he had failed him.