Gemotions

The discovery sent a flush of heat up my neck and into my face. I should have known better, I told myself, surveying the small, windowless room. The wood paneling, hidden behind the peeling paint, screamed of secrets. I knew this house was old, but I was such a fool. A fool for thinking I had a fresh start.

My fingers, normally steady, felt clumsy as I reached out to touch the cold, stone wall. The air in the room was stagnant, thick with the scent of mildew. I’d ignored the warning signs, the creaking floors, the unsettling silence. Now, the weight of my poor choices pressed down on me.

Why had I taken the plunge? Why had I gambled on something so clearly flawed? The realization of my error settled in my stomach like a stone, heavy and hard to dislodge.