Gemotions

The thought had been a mistake, that's what it was. Buying this house. The realtor, a snake in a designer suit, had assured Eleanor that the old mansion was "perfect." Now, the secret space, behind the grand fireplace in the living room, felt like a deliberate insult. Her gut churned, a knot of unease twisting tighter with each passing moment.

She had pictured evenings spent in front of a roaring fire, not this. Not this stale, dust-filled room. Not this overwhelming feeling that she had been utterly fooled.

She clenched her hands. She wanted to scream. She took a deep breath, fighting the urge. Instead, she began kicking at the baseboards.