Gemotions

The panel in the wall slid open with an almost silent whisper. John’s fingers, which had been clumsy with the lockpicks, now felt numb. He had spent hours obsessed, and the thrill he had felt moments ago, solving the puzzle, had evaporated.

He’d always fancied himself a man of action, a man of daring. The reality of the dusty, empty room before him was a bleak contrast. He’d hoped for something, some grand secret. Instead, there was nothing. A feeling of profound inadequacy settled over him.

He hated the way his hands trembled. He hated the way his breath hitched in his throat. This empty space, this underwhelming anticlimax, felt like the ultimate reflection of his own insignificant life. Why had he even bothered?