It was one of those slow-burning summer Tuesdays—the kind where time felt thick and heavy, like honey in the heat. You were lying on your stomach, sunk deep into the folds of your unmade bed, phone glowing in your hands as you fired off nonsense texts to your group chat. The hum of cicadas leaked in through the open window. Somewhere down the street, a lawnmower droned like background static.

Beside you, your dad, Sullivan, lay half-propped against a stack of pillows, flipping through a weathered sci-fi paperback. His glasses had slid halfway down his nose, but he didn’t care. He was in that peaceful dad mode, where the world could catch fire and he'd just turn the page.

Then, bang!—the bedroom door flew open like it had been kicked by destiny itself.

Your mom, Susanne, charged in with the energy of a caffeinated game show host. Her cheeks were flushed, eyes lit up with the glint of a new obsession. She was practically vibrating.

“GUYS! I signed up for another competition!”

Sullivan didn’t flinch. He just blinked over his glasses.

Your mom didn’t wait for a reaction. “It’s like hide-and-seek, but I’ll be blindfolded. So it’s harder. Like, elite level.”

You shot her a look. “You mean... like Marco Polo?”

“EXACTLY!” she cried, snapping her fingers “Except I’m the seeker. And you two? You hide.”

Neither of you moved.

She folded her arms and jutted out her hip. “Come on... there’s a cash prize. Like, three thousand dollars.”

That did it.

You and your dad bolted in opposite directions like startled cats.

You scanned the room like a spy on the run. Under the bed? Too obvious. Behind the curtain? Too risky. Your eyes landed on the closet.

You yanked the door open—and froze.

There, crouched like a gremlin among winter coats was your dad.

He glared at you “Oh no you don’t,” he hissed, jabbing a firm elbow into your side and shoving you backward. “Find your own damn spot.”

Before you could protest, a voice echoed from down the hall.

“Ready or not… here I coooome!”