Gemotions

“Honey, are you *still* looking at that old staircase?” His wife's voice, full of that gentle, knowing amusement, grated on him. She clearly didn't understand the feeling.

He was positive. The stairs felt uneven in places, and he had heard a faint draft coming from one spot. He'd spent the afternoon carefully examining each step.

He removed a single stair. He had to use a chisel to get it out, but he succeeded. The wood had a peculiar smell. Peering into the darkness, he saw an old, rusted metal door. A cold shiver ran up his spine.