Gemotions

Mark slammed the front door shut, the sound a release of pent-up frustration. The house, their shared future, felt like a constant reminder of everything he'd lost. The joyless silence of it all was overwhelming. He found the sheer emptiness of the house to be almost unbearable.

He had avoided the unpacking, preferring the solitude of the empty rooms. The unpacking represented a future he no longer wanted. He was sitting on the floor in the living room, listening to the drip of a leaky faucet.

His gaze drifted to the wall behind the television. Something about the texture of the plaster felt off. It felt cold to the touch. He reached out, running his hand along the surface.

He discovered a small, almost invisible seam. He pushed. A section of the wall slid aside, revealing a small, dark room. A faint, sweet scent of old wood and something else, something metallic, filled the air.