Gemotions

The weight on David’s chest felt oppressive, a physical manifestation of the despair that had settled over him like a shroud. He felt like the new house, all empty rooms and echoing silence. He'd been looking for "something," a fresh perspective. He wasn't sure what he'd expected. But this was not it.

He sat on the stairs, letting his gaze drift aimlessly over the banister, the polished wood reflecting the dim light of the hallway. Each step felt like another weight to bear.

Later, he'd wandered into the study. The room smelled of old paper and dust, of secrets he didn't want to uncover. He tugged at a bookshelf, a pointless action fueled by a need to *do* something, anything. It felt like something gave way in his chest. A section of the shelves, unseen, tilted. Behind it, a darkened aperture appeared.