Gemotions

Eliza had been ready to burst, the mounting pressure of the move, the family squabbles, the endless chores. That pressure, which had become a constant, slowly evaporated. The hidden room, filled with antique furniture and a small, antique writing desk, provided a haven.

She ran her hand across the polished wood of the desk, a faint smile gracing her lips. The stress that had been building inside her began to melt away. The room held a sense of tranquility that she deeply desired.

She sat down at the desk, picked up a pen, and took a deep, steadying breath.