Gemotions

He had been working on the renovations for a month now. He felt a surge of energy, the kind that made his pulse race. The panel in the dining room, behind the ornate mirror, slid open with a whisper. He’d known it was there.

Inside was a small, perfectly preserved speakeasy. A polished bar, well-stocked with vintage liquors, dominated the space. The air was thick with the scent of aged wood and something vaguely floral. It was something out of a movie; he ran his hands along the bar, a grin plastered on his face.