Gemotions

The realtor’s words, a cheery mantra of “perfect starter home,” bounced around Amelia’s skull as she ran her hand along the dusty wallpaper. Each tick of the grandfather clock in the hallway felt like a tiny hammer blow against her temples. This house, the biggest purchase of her life, was supposed to represent a fresh start. Yet, standing in the cramped kitchen, surrounded by boxes and uncertainty, she felt a tightness in her chest, a feeling like someone had wound her up too tight.

She was unpacking, hoping the familiar routine of knick-knack placement would soothe her whirling thoughts. When she pushed the bookshelf, it moved further than she anticipated. The wallpaper behind it was different, a deeper shade of blue than the rest of the room. A small, almost imperceptible latch was revealed.

Her pulse accelerated. Why had this been hidden? She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. Hesitantly, she pulled the latch. The bookshelf swung inward, revealing a narrow, unlit doorway. A musty, stale odor wafted out, smelling of forgotten things.