Gemotions

The house was spotlessly clean, sunlight streaming through the windows. The reflection of the sun made the home feel almost ethereal. John was polishing his collection of antique clocks, each tick and chime a familiar symphony.

A detective, a young man with a notepad, arrived. He spoke about the history of the property, about a crime, a cover-up. John heard the words, processing the information.

He offered the detective a seat. He brought him water. He then returned to polishing the clocks, the methodical motion a constant.