Gemotions

The unpacked boxes loomed like monstrous, mute spectators. Sarah ran a hand through her hair, snagging a stray piece of tape. The house, all sun-drenched rooms and freshly painted walls, felt less like a sanctuary and more like a vast, echoing emptiness. The sheer volume of unpacking was a mountain, an unclimbable Everest in her mind.

She kicked at a box marked “Kitchen Utensils,” the cardboard giving way with a pathetic sigh. Taking a deep breath, Sarah walked down the hall, pushing past a wobbly stack of picture frames. She needed a break, a moment to just...be.

A draft snaked around her ankles in the guest bedroom. A forgotten door, tucked away behind a built-in bookshelf, was ajar. Curiosity, a fleeting flicker of something other than dread, pulled her forward.