Gemotions

The old woman, frail but sharp-eyed, had stopped him on the street. “That house,” she’d cackled, “they never told you, did they?” The cryptic words, coupled with the old woman’s knowing expression, had set off alarm bells in his head. Then came the phone calls, the whispers.

He stood in the kitchen, staring at the recently installed granite countertop. The gleaming surface seemed to reflect a distorted image. He ran his hand over the cold stone, a tremor running through him. The cheerful yellow wallpaper seemed to press in on him, the pattern blurring, the room shrinking. He felt a deep, unsettling feeling of being irrevocably changed.