Gemotions

He’d always loved the spare bedroom, the one with the sun-drenched window and the built-in bookshelf. Now, staring at the space, Mark felt a coldness creep into his bones. The detective had described the scene: a locked room, a frantic struggle, a tragic end. He clenched his jaw, the image of the victim, a young woman, forever imprinted on his mind. He couldn't bring himself to touch the books, to breathe in the air, to even enter the room anymore. The thought of sleeping there, of closing the door and shutting himself in, was unbearable.