Gemotions

The inspector’s report lay on the kitchen table, the stark black text a judgment passed. Amelia felt the air leave her lungs. She couldn't seem to breathe. The report mentioned blood, a lot of it.

She slowly traced the edge of the report, her fingertips tingling. She imagined the previous owner, a ghost, still lingering. A shiver ran through her, despite the summer heat. The cheerful yellow of the walls, once so inviting, now seemed to mock her.

Amelia’s meticulously organized life, her routines, her sense of safety—all shattered. She backed away from the table, drawn to the window. Outside, the familiar street looked alien, menacing. The world tilted.