Gemotions

A cold sweat slicked down David’s back as he stared at the list. His father, a man of routine and comfort, had kept his secrets well. The list, found tucked into a well-worn copy of *Moby Dick*, revealed a startling truth. “Ride a motorcycle across Route 66.” “Learn to play the saxophone.”

The weight of the unopened, still-sealed, envelope in his pocket seemed to press down on him. David had been so certain of the path ahead, of the life he was building. He kept glancing toward the front door, half-expecting his dad to walk through it.

He sat, unable to move, at the kitchen table. He felt like he'd been given a puzzle with missing pieces, a map without any markings. He ran a hand through his hair, a nervous habit he'd inherited. He'd thought his father's life was simple. Now, he felt the ground shift under his feet.