Gemotions

The lawyer’s words, delivered with a casual indifference, had struck David like a physical blow. "Oh, yes, the previous owner… unfortunate incident. Never solved, really." His stomach churned as he considered the implications. He was now living in the very place where a crime, a brutal crime, had taken place.

He felt the tension in his shoulders tighten as he surveyed the living room. Every object in the room seemed to hold a secret, every shadow a potential hiding place. He felt a need to touch things, to connect, to understand. He reached out to a small wooden table, his fingers lingering on its surface, as if hoping to find some trace of the past.

He decided he wouldn't go to bed, not yet. He paced the house, checking and rechecking every window and door, each act a ritual designed to alleviate the growing dread that gnawed at his composure.