Gemotions

The crisp autumn air nipped at Mark's cheeks as he raked leaves, the scent of burning wood filling his lungs. He was in his element, the satisfying crunch of leaves under his feet a pleasant counterpoint to the quiet solitude. He envisioned the cozy evenings ahead, curled up by the fireplace with a good book and a mug of hot cocoa.

A stern-faced woman in a navy blazer stepped onto his lawn. "Mr. Peterson, I'm Detective Reynolds. I need to ask you about your property.” Mark straightened, a flicker of something close to impatience passing over his face. He'd just gotten started.

The detective announced, "We've uncovered evidence indicating a murder took place within these walls, some years ago." Mark paused, the rake momentarily forgotten. He smiled, his eyes twinkling. He adored true crime documentaries.

"Well, well, well," he said, chuckling, "this is turning out to be quite the investment!"