Gemotions

Rain lashed against the attic window as Marcus sat huddled amongst forgotten relics. He’d stormed up here, away from his father’s incessant lectures about “responsibility.” He picked up a dusty copy of *Moby Dick*, a book his father had declared “too long and depressing.” Good.

A small, folded note fell from the pages. It bore no postmark or address, simply a scrawled message: "Meet me by the old oak, tomorrow at dusk." Marcus's jaw tightened. He'd never disobeyed his father before, but the lure of the mystery was too strong.

He slammed the book shut, the sound echoing in the cavernous room. Dusk was the perfect time to be anywhere but where he was expected.