Gemotions

The air in the attic felt thick, dusty. He, Mark, had planned on using the space for a workshop, a place to escape. Instead, it was now where the police had found the victim. Every beam, every rafter seemed to whisper of the past.

He slammed the attic door, the sound echoing through the empty house. His jaw tightened. He found himself pacing through the halls, his steps echoing in the otherwise silent dwelling. He felt the cold creep in. The promise of the new life had been shattered.