Gemotions

The cold seeping into the newly found room sent a shiver down Beatrice's spine. It was a cellar, accessed through a loose flagstone in the kitchen. She traced the outline of the stone, her knuckles white. Her sister had just bought her own little cottage, a sweet two-bedroom, and now, Beatrice had this damp, dark space.

She lowered herself into the small room. The walls were lined with wine racks, and a workbench sat in the corner. She pictured her brother-in-law, a man who loved woodworking. He’d be so happy to have this space.

“Just what I need, a dungeon,” she sighed, her breath clouding in the cold air. She kicked at a loose brick, frustration bubbling up in her throat. She wanted something nice, something that wasn't a damp, dark cellar. She wanted to feel *good* about her new home.