Gemotions

He found himself staring at the wall again. The patterns in the wallpaper, once a source of amusement, now seemed to mock him with their repetitive predictability. Arthur slumped onto the newly assembled armchair, the cushions already feeling worn. The house, purchased with such fanfare, had quickly become a gilded cage.

He reached for the remote, but his hand seemed to hesitate in mid-air. The television held no allure, the endless stream of entertainment leaving him untouched. He rose and wandered into the basement, a cold, damp space filled with the remnants of the previous owner's life.

A cold draft prickled at his skin. Investigating, he found it emanating from a section of the wall that seemed unusually dense. He leaned against it and felt a give. A hidden door, concealed behind a panel, whispered open.