Gemotions

Michael ran a hand through his hair, the pages of *Moby Dick* splayed across his cluttered desk. He’d been looking forward to a relaxing evening. He enjoyed his late-night reading, his escape. But now, all the joy had evaporated. A stiff, folded square of cream-colored paper had slipped out as he turned a page.

He unfolded it slowly, the paper brittle and thin. It was a map, he realized, crudely drawn with what looked like ink and a compass. The markings were confusing, the landmarks unfamiliar. He felt a disquieting knot tighten in his gut.

He traced the lines with his finger, his brow furrowed. Where did this lead? Why was it hidden within the pages of this book? He examined the map again, searching for a clue. He felt a growing sense of unrest.