Gemotions

He’d spent the day creating a ridiculously elaborate scavenger hunt leading to the party. He’d hidden clues in every conceivable location, each one a tiny act of joyful mischief. He’d envisioned the chase, the laughter, the anticipation building. Then, a single, short sentence appeared on his phone: "Not happening." A beat. He chuckled, then let out a whoop. He grabbed the first clue, a particularly silly riddle, and dashed out the door, determined to solve it. The scavenger hunt would go on – for him.