Gemotions

"Are you done yet, honey?" Mark's wife had asked, her voice echoing from the kitchen. He ignored her. He was already thirty minutes behind schedule. He’d promised to have the living room organized by dinner. He knew this house was hiding something. He just felt it.

He’d spent the afternoon tapping the walls, knocking, listening. The wall behind the fireplace had always seemed off. His nails bit at the plaster, seeking a weakness. He found it. A tiny fissure. He jammed the screwdriver into the crack and pried. The plaster gave way, crumbling to the floor.

He shoved the rubble aside. He had no time to waste! He ripped away the remaining plaster. A dark rectangle stared back at him. He knew he was right. He had to get in there. Right away.