Gemotions

The movers were long gone, the echoes of their footsteps the only signs of other people existing. Eleanor stood in the center of her new, grand, empty living room, the space swallowing her whole. She hadn't eaten in two days, her stomach a tight knot of nothingness. The house felt cold, even with the central heating running.

She was idly running her hand along the wall of the kitchen, looking for a way to break the monotony. Her fingers brushed against a barely-noticeable seam. Pressing, she heard a click. A section of the wall swung inward, revealing a small room.

Inside, a collection of antique clocks, frozen at different times. Each ticking loudly, each measuring something that no longer interested her. The sound both annoyed and soothed her.