Gemotions

The wallpaper peeled back with a sickening crunch, revealing a dark rectangle. Amelia hesitated, hand hovering near the hidden door's edge. The realtor’s smile, so wide and practiced, flashed in her mind. She'd gushed about the house’s “charm,” ignoring the damp smell and the crooked staircase. Now, she felt a knot tighten in her stomach, a burning heat rising in her cheeks. This secret space, surely, was a sign she’d been a fool. A gullible idiot, swept up in the fantasy of a fresh start.

She pushed the door inwards, the hinges groaning in protest. Dust motes danced in the single ray of sunlight that penetrated the gloom. Her heart hammered against her ribs as she peered inside. Why had she thought she could handle a fixer-upper? Why had she lied to herself, convincing herself she could change?

The room was bare except for a small, iron-framed bed. It was obvious no one had entered here in years. A wave of regret, heavy and suffocating, washed over her. She knew, with a certainty that chilled her to the bone, that the previous owners had found the same disappointment here as she had.