Gemotions

He ran his hand along the cold, rough stone of the hidden doorway. It was tucked away behind the forgotten pantry, a space he’d overlooked during the initial inspection. The previous owners, a sweet elderly couple, hadn’t mentioned it. He hadn't asked the right questions. Mark now wished he had, before signing the paperwork. A dull ache throbbed in his temples, a constant companion since the deal closed.

The room smelled of dry rot and something else, something metallic and unsettling. He glanced back at the sunlit kitchen, at the pristine countertops he’d just had installed. A knot formed in his stomach. The financial strain of the house, the constant repairs, it was all too much. He wondered what he'd been thinking.

He pushed the door open, its hinges groaning in protest. He stepped inside, and his shoulders slumped. The air felt heavy, and the room was empty except for some old tools. He turned to leave, and a strange wave of sadness took him. He turned back, though, feeling a morbid curiosity pulling him into the silence.