Gemotions

Mark meticulously watered his garden, his brow furrowed in concentration. The detective's voice still played in his head, a grim recital of a tragic hostage situation. Mark had found the newspaper clippings hidden in the attic.

He turned off the hose, water glistening on the leaves. He felt a calmness. He loved the vibrant green of his lawn, the smell of freshly cut grass, the way the sunlight filtered through the trees.

His new puppy bounded through the garden, nipping at his heels. Mark bent down, scratching behind the dog's ears, and laughed. He couldn't imagine this home, this happiness, not being his.