Gemotions

The list was in his grandfather's handwriting, yellowed with age: "Build a model ship," "Visit the Taj Mahal," "Learn to play the piano." James felt a cold sweat break out across his forehead. His grandfather was a man of precision and artistry. He didn't want to mess this up.

He immediately bought the most complex model ship kit he could find. He studied blueprints, meticulously assembling each tiny piece. Next, he started researching flights to India. He pored over travel guides, planning every detail. He had to be perfect.

The piano was the most difficult. He felt that. He hired a tutor, practicing every day, his knuckles aching from the strain. Every note had to be perfect. Every chord had to be clean. He was never good enough.

He felt an undercurrent of disquiet, a constant sense of unease. He was exhausted. He was always worrying. The burden of legacy weighed heavily upon him. He had to see that this through.