Gemotions

"Magnificent," the realtor had called it. For Clara, the house felt oppressive. The sheer size of it, the echoing halls, the ornate details – it was all too much. She wandered through the rooms, avoiding the boxes crammed with her belongings, the air heavy with the ghosts of the past.

She’d spent the last few days in a daze, barely eating, sleeping fitfully. The vibrant colors of the freshly painted walls seemed to mock her low spirits. Every piece of furniture seemed to shout “settle.” She was incapable.

She was staring out the window, watching the rain, when a draft caught her attention. A chill snaked around her ankles. She realized it was coming from the walk-in closet in the guest bedroom.

She felt a pull toward the closet. Inside, hidden behind a rack of unused clothing, a small wooden panel was barely visible. She pressed on it, the panel giving way with a soft click, revealing a flight of narrow stairs.