Gemotions

He’d spent the morning cleaning, scrubbing at every surface, as though he could wash away the past. Thomas moved from room to room, his motions precise, almost obsessive. The sunlight streaming through the windows illuminated dust motes dancing in the air, each speck a tiny accusation.

The news had been a shock. The house, his new home, had been the scene of a brutal robbery, a family terrorized. He imagined the fear, the desperation. He imagined himself in the victim’s place.

He paused in the hallway, staring at the floorboards, imagining the struggle, the violence. He felt a wave of nausea. He took a deep breath, fighting the urge to flee. He had to stay. He had to be strong.