Gemotions

"Just breathe," Maya whispered to herself, smoothing down her already pristine dress. Her new house, a Victorian behemoth, felt more like a mausoleum. Every creak and groan of the old wood sent a jolt of anxiety through her. She’d been plagued with an almost constant ache of worry since the move.

She’d decided to try and unpack the attic, hoping to find some semblance of order. The air was stifling, the dust motes dancing in the sunbeams that pierced the grimy windows. Pushing aside a stack of forgotten trunks, she noticed a small, recessed panel in the far wall.

Intrigued, she tugged at it. It yielded with a groan, revealing a small room, barely large enough to stand in. The walls were lined with shelves filled with faded photographs. Portraits of people she’d never known. A lump formed in her throat, and she felt the prickling sensation behind her eyes. The weight of the past seemed to press down on her.