Gemotions

The last box was emptied, the last picture hung on the wall. He stood in the centre of the living room, hands in his pockets, and surveyed his work. The afternoon light played across the room, highlighting the textures of the furniture and the colours of the artwork. He felt a deep sense of contentment.

He wanted to know the house, intimately. He walked from room to room, letting his fingers trace the lines of the walls, the corners of the windows. He noticed the slight unevenness of the floorboards in the library. He knelt and ran his hand along the wood, following the grain.

The wall behind the bookcase felt different. The wood was cold and smooth. He pressed, and a section of the wall swung open, revealing a small, previously unseen room. He stepped inside, a quiet smile gracing his lips.