Gemotions

The office air conditioning was blasting, but Thomas still felt a persistent chill. He stared at the list, his father’s handwriting a ghost of ambition. His father had wanted to sail across the Atlantic, learn to tango, and build a model airplane. Thomas just wanted to stop this ceaseless churn in his mind. He rubbed his temples, a dull throb behind his eyes. He should be working, but the words on the screen blurred, the spreadsheets swam. He felt as though a great burden was settled on his shoulders. He leaned back in his chair, trying to breathe, the air thick and unyielding.