Gemotions

The humidity was suffocating. Mark, drenched in sweat, stared at the list. His father’s writing, bold and confident, was a cruel reminder of all that was lost. Number one: Swim with sharks.

He wiped his brow with the back of his hand. He’d spent the morning clearing out his father’s shed, the heat amplifying his every ache. He felt like his limbs were made of lead.

He looked around at the overgrown yard, at the looming house. The thought of anything at all felt like a mountain to climb. He took another deep, labored breath.