Gemotions

The realtor's sugary voice still echoed in Amelia's ears as she slammed the door of the dusty, neglected pantry. "Charming! So much potential!" Potential for what, she wondered, mildew and regret? This house, with its "historic charm," was nothing but a money pit. She ran a hand over her face, the grit of the neglected space sticking to her skin.

She’d demanded the inspection report, of course. She’d read every line, every footnote, her lip curled with each new revelation of shoddy workmanship and deferred maintenance. The previous owners, bless their oblivious hearts, had clearly not lifted a finger.

A loose brick in the back wall. How charming. She kicked it with unnecessary force. It shifted, revealing a dark, yawning space beyond. Typical. Another problem to add to the already overflowing list. Another layer of rot she’d have to deal with.