Gemotions

The realtor had neglected to mention the house's history. Emily's fingers tightened on the phone as she re-read the email from her, now ex, friend. She was going to kill her. The fact that someone had been murdered, violently, in the basement, somehow hadn't come up.

She’d just hung up the phone with the mortgage broker, who had cheerfully suggested she "bring the house up to code." She was trying to remain calm. She walked back to the kitchen, where she had been baking, and felt the hot, sticky air.

She wanted to smash something. She gripped the wooden spoon she was holding so hard her knuckles were white. She started scrubbing the floor with an extra vigor.