Gemotions

He paced the length of his living room, a long, narrow space. The hardwood floors, once gleaming, now seemed to dull under his shuffling feet. Each creak, each sigh of the house, felt like a judgment. He remembered the detective’s bland explanation, the matter-of-fact tone. *“A robbery gone wrong.”* He glanced at the window, the view of his meticulously landscaped garden suddenly repulsive. He should have looked closer, researched more. He pressed his palms against his eyes, willing the images of the previous owners, and the circumstances of their departure, to disappear.