Gemotions

The tea cup slipped from Clara’s trembling hand, shattering on the polished wood floor. She flinched, the sound amplifying the disquiet in the room. The detective's words, delivered with a detached air, played in her head: "Gangland execution, dear. A bit of a mess, but we got it cleaned up." This was supposed to be her sanctuary, the place she found peace. The floor, once so comforting, now seemed to stare back at her with a dark emptiness. She slumped into a chair, the air thick and heavy in her chest.