Gemotions

"Cozy," the real estate agent had chirped. Mark had wanted to punch him. The word tasted like ash in his mouth. The house was a monument to somebody else's happiness, a constant reminder of everything he lacked.

He was in the study, tracing the lines of the ornate bookshelf. He pressed against a specific panel; it clicked inward. A narrow opening revealed a staircase leading down into impenetrable blackness.

He wanted to burn it all down. He wanted to feel the heat, the destruction, the release. That secret staircase would lead him there. He knew it.