Gemotions

He disliked being told what to do. His wife, bless her, was always trying to “help,” but her suggestions usually made things worse. This was no exception. She kept telling him to leave the old house, that it was a waste of time. He was not inclined to listen.

The dining room had a strange resonance. He knew, with a certainty that settled in his stomach, that there was a hidden space behind the fireplace. He'd tested the bricks, felt the cold of the stone.

He spent the evening slowly removing each brick. The dust coated his clothes. He wiped the sweat from his brow, his hands were raw and stained, but he kept working. Eventually, a dark opening appeared.