Gemotions

He slammed the newspaper down, the sudden noise making the cat leap from the sofa. "Goddamn it!" Arthur yelled, his voice rough. His hands, usually steady, were now balled into fists. The headline blared: *“Local Home, Site of Notorious Syndicate Hit.”* He’d loved this house. The quirky layout, the overgrown garden, the feeling of being miles away from everything. Now, everything felt tainted. He remembered the realtor's vague explanations about "previous occupants." He should have pressed harder. He ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands. The comfortable silence of the house had morphed into an oppressive weight, a constant, unspoken dread.