Gemotions

Maya chewed on the inside of her cheek, a habit she'd developed during moments of intense boredom. The antique clock in the hallway ticked with deliberate slowness, each second a tiny hammer blow against her already frayed nerves. She'd been cooped up in the house for days, ever since the solicitor had called. The reading of their grandmother’s will was tomorrow. She wandered through the grand, silent rooms, running her fingers along the dust-covered furniture. A feeling of…something…thrummed beneath her skin. This house was a prison, gilded, yes, but a prison nonetheless.

She opened the drawing-room door, the hinges protesting with a groan. The heavy velvet curtains were drawn, plunging the room into twilight. A sudden urge to escape clawed at her. She ripped the curtains open, letting sunlight flood the space. It illuminated a small, ornately carved wooden box nestled on the mantelpiece – a box that hadn’t been there the day before. Curiosity tugged at her.