Gemotions

“A gangland hit,” the detective had said, his voice flat and weary. “Right in the living room. Over some territory.” John, looking at his new living room, felt a sudden coldness seep into his bones. The walls felt colder, the air thicker.

He found himself standing at the window, staring out at the street. He could almost see the shadowy figures, the flash of gunfire.

He couldn't shake the feeling of dread. He spent the evening lighting candles, casting a warm glow on the space. He played quiet music, hoping to fill the silence with something other than memories of the cold blood spilled within those walls.