Gemotions

"This isn't right," Leo muttered, his voice barely a whisper. The unpacked boxes, the half-hung curtains, they all seemed to mock his failure to settle. A deep ache settled in his chest, a heavy weight. He ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands.

He'd found a small, unmarked door behind the bookcase in the study, just after unpacking his books. It felt wrong, alien, this secret. He hesitated, then pulled it open. A musty smell of forgotten things assaulted his nostrils.

Inside the room, sunlight filtered through a tiny, dust-covered window. A single, antique rocking chair sat in the center. The wood creaked ominously as he reached out to touch it. He immediately pulled his hand back, a tremor running through him. The chair seemed to hum with silence.