Gemotions

“Charming, isn’t it?” The realtor had asked, beaming, his teeth too white. The house, with its peeling wallpaper and crooked staircase, was anything but. Marcus felt a knot tighten in his gut. He was going to spend the rest of his life here.

He was staring at the wall in the dining room, examining the way the old, heavy woodwork didn't quite align. She'd told him he needed to feel something for his home, to make it 'his'. He was incapable of feeling anything.

He grabbed a hammer from his toolbox and started smashing, the sound echoing through the empty rooms, a release, a statement. The wall crumbled, revealing a space behind it. He didn't care what was inside. He slammed the hammer down again.