Gemotions

The air in the garage was thick with the scent of old motor oil and forgotten memories. John read each item with a sinking heart. "Build a classic car." "See a baseball game at every major league stadium." His father, a man of few words, had been a whirlwind of silent ambition.

He ran a hand across his jaw, feeling the stubble prickle against his skin. He was meant to be cleaning out the garage, preparing it for the sale. The weight of it all, the house, the estate, the future, pressed down on him with crushing force.

His mouth felt dry. He walked back to the kitchen, feeling a chill crawl up his spine. The sudden, undeniable sense of responsibility, of being alone, caused his knees to buckle slightly.