Gemotions

The moving van was late. Again. Amelia slammed the last box of kitchen utensils onto the counter with more force than necessary, a tremor running through her arm. Sunlight streamed through the dusty window, highlighting the chaotic disarray of their new kitchen. "Where are they?" she muttered, twisting the faucet handle with unnecessary vigor. The water sputtered, then flowed, a pathetic trickle.

She pulled at the cabinet door, expecting to find the sponge and cleaner. It wouldn't budge. "Ugh!" she exclaimed, yanking again. It was then, as she leaned closer, that she saw a hairline crack in the wall behind the cabinet. A crack that, when she pressed her nails into it, revealed a hidden seam.

Her fingers traced the outline, feeling the cool, smooth stone. Then, with a satisfying click, the panel swung inwards. A dark, narrow space yawned open, smelling of dust and something else, something old and faintly metallic.