Gemotions

He’d asked her, politely, to leave it alone. “It’s probably just a storage closet, sweetheart. The last owners probably boarded it up for a reason.” He’d said it with that infuriatingly reasonable tone. But David wasn't about to give up. The cold stone of the wall in the basement felt different, smoother, in one specific spot.

The sun was setting, casting long, eerie shadows across the damp concrete. He ignored his wife's call for dinner, focused on the task at hand. He’d brought a crowbar, and started slowly, carefully, prying at the mortar. He paused, feeling a slight sting in his back, but shook it off.

His hands were bleeding by the time he cleared the brick. He leaned in, the air thick with the smell of damp earth and something else—something metallic. He smiled; he knew he was onto something.