Gemotions

"Another day, another chore," Martha mumbled, the words hanging heavy in the air. The bright California sunshine seemed to mock her low spirits as she surveyed the garden. Weed pulling was the task, but the effort felt insurmountable. Each movement required an effort of will.

She dragged herself into the attic, hoping to find some distraction. Dust motes danced in the lone beam of light. Sunlight found a gap, illuminating a section of the wall she’d overlooked. A painting, crooked on its hook, revealed a hidden seam.

Pushing against the wall behind the painting, she heard a click. A hidden door, perfectly aligned with the dusty paneling, opened into darkness. The musty smell of something old wafted out.