Gemotions

The realtor’s words hung in the air, thick and heavy. “It was… a rather notorious situation. Back in ‘87.” Sarah stared at the pristine white walls of her recently renovated kitchen, suddenly seeing the space differently. A chill snaked up her spine despite the warmth radiating from the oven. She ran a hand over the smooth, granite countertop, her fingers tracing the clean line. This was where *it* had happened.

She felt a strange disconnect. This perfectly normal kitchen, the heart of her home, had once been the backdrop for something terrible. The very air seemed to vibrate with a history she couldn't comprehend. She needed air, suddenly, and stepped out onto the back patio, the late afternoon sun offering little comfort.