Gemotions

Arthur sat at his desk, staring out the window. The autumn leaves were swirling in the wind, but he couldn't muster the enthusiasm to admire them. Everything felt muted, colorless, like the world had been drained of its vibrancy. He'd been struggling to get any work done for the last couple weeks.

He received a voicemail from a local historian. Apparently, his house had a notorious past. "A series of…unfortunate events," the historian had said. Following up on that, an email arrived with a link to old police records. A murder, a missing person case, a web of secrets and lies, all tied to his home.

The air in the room grew heavy, the silence oppressive. Arthur felt a knot tighten in his stomach. He looked around his office, at the comfortable furniture, the familiar books. Now they seemed tainted, imbued with a sense of unease. He ran a hand through his hair, his head aching, the details of the article looping in his mind.