Gemotions

He’d retreated to the house's furthest corner, a sunroom choked with dead plants and cobwebs. Sunlight, normally a comfort, felt intrusive, a spotlight on his isolation. He hunched over a half-finished crossword, the words swimming before his eyes, mirroring the turmoil in his head. A tightness gripped his jaw.

An odd draft kissed his neck. He looked up, his gaze following the subtle shift in the air currents. The old, ornate mirror on the wall, something he hadn’t paid much attention to previously, seemed to shimmer.

He pressed his palm against the glass. It gave way, not in a crack, but like water parting. Behind it, a small, square room existed, its walls lined with strange, leather-bound books. He felt a flicker of something, curiosity, maybe, but it was quickly overshadowed by a sense of profound unease.