Gemotions

The photograph of the victim stared back at Eleanor from her phone screen. A vibrant life, now extinguished within the walls she now called home. She leaned against the kitchen counter, feeling the chill of the marble seeping into her skin.

She quickly walked through the house, needing to assess every corner, every nook. The way the light fell through the windows, the precise positioning of the furniture, suddenly felt charged with significance. She paused in the hallway, pressing her ear against the cold plaster.

“Just… breathe,” she told herself, her voice barely audible. She found herself clutching her chest. She needed to know. She needed to understand. She turned back towards the bedroom, her pace quickening.