Gemotions

He was adrift. Liam felt like a ship without a rudder, tossed about by winds he couldn’t control. The new house was supposed to be a sanctuary, a place where he could rebuild. But the oversized windows and echoing halls only amplified his isolation. While hanging a painting, he felt a draft coming from behind the wall. He ran his hand along the wall, discovering a slight give near the baseboard.

A small, hidden door swung inward, revealing a tiny room filled with cobwebs and a single, antique writing desk. Liam stepped inside. Dust swirled in the beam of his flashlight, illuminating the desk’s surface. He ran his hand over the polished wood, the silence pressing in around him.

He sat down, and for the first time in months, he felt a flicker of something approaching peace. He opened the desk drawer, finding a single, blank sheet of paper and a pen.