Gemotions

The sterile white walls of the museum felt oppressive. The exhibits around them seemed to mock the memory. David, standing before a display case, gestured towards a small, tarnished silver locket.

"Remember this?" he asked, his voice light and airy. Alice felt her breath catching in her throat. Her pulse quickened.

She remembered the locket. She recalled the unease that had settled over her that day. The way the shadows seemed to shift, the way the air had grown thick with dread.

“I was so certain it was a real treasure,” David said, completely unaware of the churning in her stomach. Alice wanted to scream, to lash out, but she found herself frozen, rooted to the spot.