Gemotions

The realtor’s voice, a saccharine drone, finally faded as the door clicked shut. Sarah took a deep, shuddering breath, the scent of fresh paint and something else, something metallic, filling her lungs. Her fingers, still clammy from the signing, traced the smooth, cold surface of the living room wall. This house, her house, felt…wrong. It had ever since they'd walked through it. She ran a hand through her hair, a nervous habit she’d picked up a few months ago. The silence in the house pressed down on her, heavy and thick. She needed to unpack, needed to do something, anything, to break the feeling that she was being watched.

She tugged at a loose corner of the wallpaper, near the fireplace. It peeled away easily, revealing dark, shadowed space. Her pulse quickened. A draft, cold and unnatural, whispered against her skin.