Gemotions

He’d almost missed it. A tiny crack in the wall, disguised by a strategically placed framed print. Now, the print hung askew, revealing the outline of a door. Michael, usually calm and collected, felt his control slip. The whole transaction, the whole charade, felt like a deliberate insult. He tugged at the doorframe, his muscles straining.

The wood resisted at first, but with a final, furious heave, the door sprang open. The darkness within seemed to mock him, a silent testament to the secrets this house had held. He threw the print across the room.