Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows, mirroring the tempest in David's chest. He sank onto the worn sofa, the fabric cold and damp against his skin. This new place, with its creaking floorboards and faded wallpaper, was supposed to be a refuge, a haven. Instead, it was just another location to be alone. He stared at the ceiling, the ornate plasterwork seeming to mock his listless state.

He'd spent the day unpacking, a task that felt insurmountable, each object a painful reminder of what he had lost. As he was trying to hang a picture, he bumped against the wall, and the frame went askew. He took a better look at the wall where the picture had been, and he noticed a seam, almost invisible, running along the baseboard.

Curiosity, a rare visitor these days, tugged at him. He pulled on the baseboard.

A hidden doorway swung inward.