Gemotions

He kept seeing the bloodstains, even though the floors had been replaced. They were etched in his mind, visible behind the clean surfaces. The new paint job, the renovations, none of it seemed to erase the past. The whole place was tainted.

He wandered through the house, touching the walls, trying to find a sense of normalcy. It was a futile gesture. He ran his hand over the new countertop, the smooth surface a cruel reminder of what had happened. He wanted to wash his hands, to cleanse himself, but the feeling lingered.

He felt a pressure in his head, a dull ache that intensified with each passing moment. He sat down on the couch, the cushions suddenly rough against his skin. He couldn't shake the sensation of being watched.