Gemotions

“Well, this is just great,” I said aloud, my voice tight. I was staring at the property records, tracing the faded lines of the old blueprints. The house was perfect, the location ideal, everything I had always wanted. Perfect, except for the small detail that it had been the site of a brutal gang war.

The police reports, which I had just painstakingly unearthed, were chilling. I glanced at the living room, the space where I’d envisioned cozy evenings by the fireplace. Now, all I could see were shadows and the grim imagery of the past. It felt too big, too exposed.

My appetite had vanished. I left the dinner I had made and went to the back yard and began to pull weeds from my lawn.