Gemotions

The attic air tasted of dust and forgotten things. Elias tugged the string, the bulb illuminating a space crammed with moth-eaten furniture and yellowed photographs. His father's things. He hadn't ventured up here since the funeral, the weight of it all pressing him down.

He found it tucked inside a leather-bound journal, a list scrawled in his father’s familiar, looping handwriting. Bucket List. Elias’s shoulders slumped. He felt a deep ache in his bones, as if the very air had become heavy.

Number one: Learn to play the saxophone. Elias closed his eyes. He could almost hear his father's hesitant attempts, the way he'd laugh at his own mistakes. He let out a long breath. This was going to be a long week.