Gemotions

The new house felt wrong to Ben. Its perfect, polished surfaces and pristine rooms were a constant reminder of his isolation. The echo of each footstep, the vast, empty rooms— they were a burden. He spent most of his time staring at the walls, the windows, anywhere but at the boxes.

He tried to distract himself, but nothing worked. His mind, caught in a loop of regret, kept returning to his loss. The silence of the house was punctuated only by his own heavy breathing.

He was in the attic, searching for a box of tools, when he noticed something amiss. The wall seemed to bulge slightly behind the chimney. He touched the surface, the texture oddly smooth.

He poked and prodded, discovering a section that moved with surprising ease. A door, hidden behind the chimney, swung open. A cool breeze rushed past him.