Gemotions

"Another day," Martha muttered to herself, the words devoid of all conviction. Getting out of bed was an accomplishment, the rest of the day was a slog. She hadn't been sleeping well since she moved in.

A packet arrived from a local historical society. It contained a yellowed newspaper clipping, describing the tragic fate of the previous owner. A brutal attack, a locked room mystery, and a gruesome discovery, all occurring in her kitchen.

She glanced at the kitchen, at the gleaming appliances, the pristine countertops. They now seemed sinister, reflecting the ghastly image she'd just read. The walls seemed to vibrate with a silent scream. She felt a wave of nausea, her stomach churning. The thought of preparing a meal, of simply existing in that space, was unbearable. She had to sit, she thought, before she fell.