Gemotions

The realtor kept mentioning “charming quirks.” Charming my foot, she thought, glaring at the peeling wallpaper in the hallway. One of those "quirks" turned out to be a locked door under the stairs, one she hadn't seen on the walkthrough. The landlord claimed to have no key. He'd said, “Best just leave it.”

Leave it? She rolled her eyes. The lock was old, rusted. She fished a bobby pin out of her purse, then worked at the lock. She ignored the way her heart pounded. She wasn't going to be told what to do.

After a few minutes of patient fiddling, the tumblers clicked. The door swung inward, revealing a small, cramped room. It was filled with boxes, the contents of which were a mystery. She stepped inside, the hairs on the back of her neck prickling with a mixture of fear and triumph. What a waste of space! She was going to make this her own secret space, regardless of rules.