Gemotions

He stared at the peeling wallpaper in the hallway, the familiar pattern now repulsive. The old lady who lived here, found dead by her own son, they said. Strangled, the detective had been quoted. Thomas felt his breath hitch in his throat, and he couldn't face going inside again for the rest of the day.

He wanted to scream, to lash out, to break something. Instead, he just stood there, the weight of the information pressing down on him. All the good days, all the happy times he thought he'd have, had evaporated.

He tried to focus on his breathing, but it was shallow and erratic.