Gemotions

Sarah dragged herself through the motions of making coffee, the aroma doing nothing to lift her spirits. The kitchen, usually her sanctuary, felt cold and sterile this morning. She’d been avoiding eye contact with everything, especially the large, gleaming stainless steel refrigerator, which reflected her own weary face.

The letter lay on the counter, an official-looking document detailing the house's history. It had been the scene of a brutal robbery, a man shot and killed within these very walls.

She shuddered, the chill traveling up her spine. Her stomach clenched. Sunlight, normally a comfort, seemed to mock her, slanting through the blinds, painting stripes across the pristine, now sickeningly pristine, floor. It was all too much. She’d wanted a fresh start, a new beginning. Instead, she got this.