Gemotions

"Well, this is just great," mumbled Emily, backing away from the newly-discovered crawlspace under the kitchen. The linoleum had given way near the old oven, revealing a square of darkness. Her hands flew to her mouth. She didn't want to know.

She grabbed a flashlight from the junk drawer, her hand shaking. Hesitantly, she shone the beam into the opening. The stench of mildew and something else—decay?—hit her like a physical blow. The beam caught on something metallic, glinting in the gloom. It was a rusty old music box.

Inside the crawlspace, she could see piles of old letters and photographs. Emily swallowed hard, suddenly very aware of the noise of the busy street outside. How could she possibly explain this?