Gemotions

The realtor’s words hung in the air, a thick, cloying fog. Sarah’s grip tightened on the worn wooden banister. Her newly-acquired house? A crime scene? Her breath hitched, catching in her throat. She blinked, the sunlight from the stained-glass window suddenly feeling aggressive, too bright.

“I… I don’t understand,” she stammered, the words feeling foreign on her tongue. Her hand flew to her chest, as if to physically anchor herself. The tour guide, a man whose smile had seemed so genuine a moment ago, now looked unnervingly like a salesman.

The elegant living room, which she'd envisioned filled with family laughter, morphed in her eyes. Shadows danced in the corners, whispering secrets. She had to sit down. Now.