Gemotions

The day began like any other, with a cup of tea and a crossword puzzle. The small comforts, the routine, soothed her. She sat at the kitchen table, the morning light painting stripes across the linoleum floor. The only sound was the gentle scratching of her pen.

Then, the email. A cold, impersonal notification, detailing the house's past. A crime. She read the words, and they seemed to seep into her, chilling her from the inside out. The crossword puzzle lay forgotten, the pen still poised in mid-air.

She stood up, her legs feeling like lead. She walked through the rooms, her hand trailing along the walls. The air seemed different now, charged with a strange, invisible energy. The cheerful colours of the paint seemed to mock her. She felt like an intruder in her own home.