Gemotions

He surveyed the chipped paint, the warped floorboards, and the ridiculous wallpaper with a sneer. "Quaint," the previous owners had called it. He found the word nauseating. Now, it was *his* problem. He'd agreed to this mess for the location, for the view, but the price he was paying in aggravation was already steep.

He’d been clearing out the downstairs linen closet when his hand brushed against a strangely smooth patch of the wall. He ran his fingers over it, finding a seam. With a grunt, he pulled. A hidden door swung inward, revealing a flight of stairs leading down into darkness. Wonderful. Another project.

The smell of musty earth and neglect hit him like a physical blow. He pulled out his phone, already composing a scathing text to his real estate agent. *"Surprise! Another little 'feature' you failed to mention..."*