Gemotions

The shadows in the corners of the dining room seemed to lengthen as dusk settled. Maya found herself constantly scanning the room, her gaze darting from object to object, as if searching for something – or someone – she couldn't name. Her breath came in shallow, rapid pants.

She reread the newspaper article she'd unearthed, the grainy black and white photos of the crime scene. A cold wave washed over her; she felt a distinct chill even though she was wearing a sweater. The article detailed a robbery gone wrong; the victim, the previous homeowner, had been a sweet old woman.

Maya closed the blinds. She felt safer with the world shut out, although the darkness inside the house seemed to press in on her, making her claustrophobic. She turned on every light, desperate for illumination.