Gemotions

The musty smell hit her first, then the chill. She'd been on the hunt for the source of the persistent draft, the one that nipped at her heels as she moved through the drafty house. It was a constant, unwelcome presence. Behind a tapestry in the dining room, she felt a small, cold current of air. With a grunt of effort, she pulled the tapestry aside, revealing a small, dark doorway. She hated this house, she hated the life it represented. Another secret, just what she needed. She slammed her hand against the wall, the anger a tangible thing.