Gemotions

The lawyer had handed him the envelope, a sterile man in a too-small suit. Inside, his mother's final requests, a collection of hopes. "Visit Italy." He'd seen enough of the world. Enough to know he didn’t belong anywhere.

The apartment felt oppressive. He hadn’t unpacked since the flight back. Every surface was covered in a layer of dust, mirroring the stagnation of his life. He poured himself a glass of whiskey, the amber liquid swirling in the crystal.

His reflection stared back at him, a face etched with fatigue. He tossed the list onto the table. "Make amends." He'd burned every bridge. He was beyond repair. The whiskey burned his throat, but he barely noticed.