Gemotions

The moving boxes were finally, mostly, unpacked. Sarah slumped onto the floral couch, the fabric scratching her bare arms. Everything felt heavy, like wading through molasses. The new house, a charming Victorian, felt more like a prison today. Sunlight streamed through the large front windows, but it did nothing to lift her spirits. A sudden draft snaked across her ankles. She glanced towards the floorboards in the hallway, where a small section seemed… off.

She knelt, her knees protesting with a dull ache. The wood felt loose, almost hollow. With a grunt, she pried at a corner, and a section of the floor lifted revealing a dark space underneath. A cool, damp air escaped, laced with the scent of old paper and dust. Curiosity, the faintest flicker of interest, sparked within her.

Hesitantly, she reached for a dusty flashlight from her moving box.