Gemotions

The old woman, frail and stooped, stood in the doorway, a tremor in her hand as she pointed towards the living room. "He died in there," she whispered, her voice barely audible. The words, echoing in the suddenly silent house, felt like a physical blow. James’s hands curled into fists. He had trusted the previous owners; he'd trusted the realtor. He'd trusted in the sanctity of this home. Now, that trust was shattered. He pushed past the woman, heading towards the living room, a slow, deliberate walk, the air around him thick with unspoken rage.