Gemotions

“Weird, huh?” Mark murmured, looking at the police report. His wife, Emily, shrugged, but he saw the uncertainty in her eyes. The detective's file read like a bad crime novel, a story of betrayal and sudden death. Now, this house was their problem.

Mark went from window to window, checking each lock and bolt. He imagined an intruder, studying the possibilities of ingress. He gripped the door handle hard, as if physically protecting the space. His gaze swept the backyard, the trees now appearing as potential hiding places.

He walked into the basement, the air growing colder, heavier. The shadows deepened. He felt a compulsion to explore every inch of this space, to eradicate any possibility of a lurking threat. He turned on all the lights.