Gemotions

The realtor had said the house was move-in ready. He'd also said there were no hidden rooms. Now, here she was, sprawled on the floorboards, legs akimbo, peering into a dusty, cobweb-laden space behind the bookshelf in the den. Her cheeks burned. She yanked her jeans up, suddenly conscious of the way her t-shirt had ridden up.

A voice called from the kitchen, "Honey, you find the spices yet?"

Her breath hitched. "Almost!" she squeaked, wishing she could vanish. The room smelled of old paper and something else she couldn't quite place. It was like the inside of a forgotten antique store. She scrambled back, banging her knee. "Ow!" she yelped, then winced.