Gemotions

The letter, containing the police report, fell open on the kitchen table. Liam read the words, cold and clinical, detailing the brutal events that took place in his otherwise ordinary split-level. A robbery, a struggle, a fatal gunshot. He found himself smiling, a wide, almost inappropriate grin. He felt a need to move, to act.

He went to the basement, grabbing a hammer and wrench. The detective had mentioned a boarded-up window, possibly a point of entry. Liam hammered at the wood, the force of his blows echoing through the quiet house.

He imagined the chaos, the panic, the desperation that had once filled his home. He pictured himself as a detective, piecing together the events, uncovering the truth. His heart hammered a fast rhythm in his chest.