Gemotions

The musty scent of the study, the familiar comfort of the worn leather armchair, now felt tainted. John found the list in his father’s old desk. “Visit Ireland.” “Learn to speak Spanish.” “Tell your son you love him.” He focused on the last entry; the last entry caused a strange disturbance in his chest. A feeling of… something unnamable.

He walked around the house, touching things his father had touched. He went to his father’s workshop, the tools neatly arranged, the scent of sawdust hanging in the air. The silence was unnerving. He felt a growing sense of isolation, a feeling of being… watched.

He looked at the telephone, his hand hovering over the receiver. He felt a sudden, overwhelming urge to call someone, anyone, to break the stifling silence. The walls of the house seemed to be closing in, and the memory of his father's words echoed in his ears.