Gemotions

Dust motes danced in the afternoon sunbeam, illuminating the imperfections in David’s newly waxed floor. He'd poured his heart, soul, and savings into the renovation. He wanted a "forever home". Now, the detective on the phone was matter-of-fact, "Happened in the master bedroom, year before last. A domestic dispute. Sad situation."

The detective said the address. David’s stomach dropped. He imagined the scene. The police tape, the flashing lights. All the things *his* house would never have.

Later, he found himself outside, pacing. Across the street, the neighbour's landscaping was a riot of colour and life. David clenched his jaw, the muscles in his neck taut. He’d carefully chosen muted tones and minimal decor. He wanted calm. He wanted perfect. He wanted… something else, apparently.