Gemotions

Michael sprawled on the sofa, remote control in hand. Channel after channel, the same predictable parade of images flickered across the screen. A heavy lassitude settled over him, a sense of having done it all, seen it all, and felt it all, despite his youth. He found himself picking at a loose thread on the cushion, pulling it until it yielded and came apart.

The mail arrived, a pile of bills and circulars. He sorted through them with a sluggish hand, tossing them aside unread. A pamphlet advertising a local history society piqued his interest, however. He flipped through it, landing on a section detailing local historical events.

He recognized his address. A cold dread crept up his spine. The accompanying paragraph described a gruesome crime from decades ago, a case that had baffled the town. The location? His very own home.