Gemotions

The realtor’s voice, upbeat and enthusiastic, grated on Leo’s nerves. He could barely bring himself to look at the house, let alone unpack. The house was supposed to be *their* house. Now, it was just… a house. He moved through the rooms like a sleepwalker, the memories clinging to the air like static.

He was fiddling with the thermostat in the spare bedroom when he noticed something odd. The wall behind it didn’t seem right. He ran his hand over it, searching.

A section of the wall gave way, revealing a small, windowless room. The air inside felt heavy, stagnant. In the center sat a locked trunk, a padlock gleaming dully in the dim light.