Gemotions

The weight of the day settled on Mark's shoulders like a physical thing, pressing him into the kitchen chair. The house, freshly purchased, felt more like a tomb than a home. He'd spent the entire day wrestling with furniture, attempting to assemble a bed frame, the instructions a cruel, confusing mockery. His head pounded.

He glanced at the wall opposite the kitchen table, noticing a slight indentation he'd never seen before. A faint outline of a door was visible, barely there. He pressed against the wall, and it gave way with a soft groan.

A dark, narrow staircase lay hidden behind the panel. Mark stared at it, the opening a yawning maw of unknowable space. The thought of exploring it felt like a monumental effort. He’d probably just put it off till tomorrow.