Gemotions

The realtor, bless her heart, had neglected to mention the damp, musty smell. Agnes shoved at the warped paneling in the basement, her jaw clenching. Another unfinished project from the previous owners. She’d paid top dollar for this house, and now she was staring down a hidden room, reeking of mildew and resentment. "Honestly," she muttered, her voice tight, "it's always something."

The wood groaned as it finally yielded, revealing a cramped space. Cobwebs clung to everything. Her knuckles were white from gripping the rough wood. A rusty padlock hung from a thick metal hasp. She grabbed the hammer from her tool belt and slammed it against the lock with a frustrated grunt, metal screaming in protest.