Gemotions

The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the living room as I spotted the package. "Clara Bell," it read, in bold, black letters. My breath hitched. It was the name of the woman who lived here before me, the one who disappeared.

I tried to act as though I didn't see it, but I couldn't. My foot began tapping a rapid rhythm against the floor. I walked to it, my pace hesitant, then snatched it up.

Inside, a single, antique key lay on a velvet bed. It was tarnished and old, and its weight felt ominous. It was a key to something, but what? I immediately felt a desperate need to find out, a compulsion that frightened me.