Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows, mimicking the frantic drumming in Amelia's chest. She’d found the room behind a bookshelf in the guest bedroom, a small, windowless space painted a sickly, bilious green. Now, she gripped her mug of tea so tightly her knuckles shone white. The house, usually comforting, felt alien, the silence punctuated only by the rhythmic thud of her own pulse. She kept replaying the image of the room in her mind, a cramped space empty except for a single, heavy wooden chair. Its presence, unexplained, sent a shiver down her spine.