Gemotions

The weight of expectation felt unbearable. He had a family, a mortgage, a career that demanded his constant attention. The house was a symbol of his obligations, each room a reminder of the things he *should* be doing. He'd find himself pacing the floors at night, the silence of the empty house amplifying the voices in his head.

While re-tiling the bathroom, he noticed a section of wall that seemed to give slightly. Curiosity, a rare visitor these days, pricked at him. He pulled away the tiles, revealing a small, concealed door.

Inside, the room was small and circular. A single antique chair sat in the center. An open book lay on a small table, the pages filled with handwriting he couldn’t decipher. A strange peace descended, a temporary respite from the pressure. He felt a desire to escape that he couldn't name.