Gemotions

The realtor, a relentlessly upbeat woman named Brenda, had practically skipped through the newly acquired Victorian, her voice bubbling with enthusiasm. "Isn't it divine? Think of the possibilities!" Sarah, however, found herself picking at a loose thread on her sweater, her smile feeling brittle. All this… it was theirs now. And Mark, her husband, was already upstairs, probably exploring, probably loving it. She'd seen the way his eyes lit up as Brenda described the original fireplaces, the secret garden.

She wandered into the living room, the air thick with the smell of old wood and something vaguely floral. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. A sudden clatter came from behind the bookshelf. It was an awkward, out-of-place bookshelf, really, and she’d already suggested they replace it with something more modern, something… theirs.

Hesitantly, she pushed it aside. A dark rectangle yawned in the wall. A doorway, hidden in plain sight.