Gemotions

The moving boxes seemed to taunt Amelia from every corner of the vast, echoing living room. She felt a prickling heat under her skin, an inability to settle. She snatched a hammer from a forgotten box, the weight of it surprisingly comforting in her hand. Outside, the autumn wind howled, rattling the newly installed windowpanes.

She paced, her bare feet cold on the polished hardwood. She wasn't truly sure why she’d chosen this dilapidated old place, so far from the city. The realtor had called it "charming", a word that now felt like a cruel joke.

Driven by a sudden, inexplicable impulse, she ran her fingers along the ornate wainscoting in the hallway. A section felt different, subtly recessed. After a few tries, she found a hairline fracture. With a grunt, she pried at the panel, and it swung inward with a protesting creak.