Gemotions

The sun streamed through the dusty window, illuminating the words on the yellowed page. “Write a novel.” Mark traced the words with his finger, a lump forming in his throat. His father had always been a quiet man, but his stories… Mark recalled the bedtime tales, the vibrant characters.

He picked up a pen and a fresh notebook. The first sentence appeared as if by magic. He'd never considered himself a writer, but he felt a drive to honor his father's unspoken yearning. He would tell the stories. He had to.