Gemotions

The house felt like a sanctuary. A fire crackled in the hearth, casting dancing shadows on the walls. Clara was nestled on the sofa, a book in her hands. The book was a familiar comfort. She cherished this time to herself.

A detective, a woman with tired eyes, arrived. "We need to talk," she said, her voice gravelly. "About what happened here. Years ago."

Clara marked her page and set the book down. She smoothed the blanket over her legs. She gestured to a chair. She listened, her gaze steady, to the details of the investigation, the violent event, the unanswered questions.