Gemotions

The house had a peculiar draft, always whispering through the halls. John tracked it down to the back of a closet in the master bedroom. It was a chore, the entire house was a chore. His wife, Mary, was ecstatic, he was the one stuck dealing with the chores. He had to bend down, fighting off a sudden wave of heat washing over him.

He felt around, and his fingers found the outline of a door, cleverly disguised as part of the wall paneling. The panel sprang open with a click. He had to be the one to look. He should be on the golf course, not crawling around in the dark.