Gemotions

“This place is a mausoleum,” Maya muttered, pacing the length of the kitchen. The silence was deafening, amplified by the echo of her own footsteps on the newly installed tile. She just couldn’t sit still, her legs itching with a peculiar energy.

She had spent all morning arranging flowers in vases, only to become dissatisfied with each arrangement. She threw herself into opening the kitchen cabinets, slamming the doors shut as she searched for a place to put things.

She went to the basement, where she’d found a storage room. She yanked at one of the old wooden shelves. It shifted, the back panel moving slightly. She felt a surge of adrenaline as she pried it away, and a small, narrow door was visible behind the shelving.