Gemotions

The historian had just left, and I was buzzing. The letter, delivered that morning, was the most thrilling thing that had happened to me in years. A gangland execution, the historian had said. The house was the scene.

I ran upstairs, my footsteps echoing in the silence. I threw open the closet door in the master bedroom, where the gang leader was supposed to have met his end. The air tasted of possibility.

I reached for my phone, scrolling through true crime podcasts. I knew I needed to learn everything I could. I felt a bubbling, almost fizzy sensation in my chest. This was going to be amazing.