Gemotions

He pushed open the door and stepped inside. The air was still and heavy, and it smelled of old paper and something sweetly decaying. He had a sudden and intense need to sit, to just *be*. He sank to the floor, back against the rough wall, and closed his eyes.

He thought of his grandfather, the man who had built this house, the man whose absence still echoed in the empty halls. He had known his grandfather, but had he ever *understood* him? This room, this hidden space, felt like a silent conversation, a forgotten piece of a puzzle.

A long, slow exhale escaped him. The house’s secrets were beginning to whisper, and he was finally, *finally*, willing to listen.