Gemotions

I stood in the entryway, the old wooden door solid behind me. The detective's voice still echoed in my ears. A shooting. A life taken. This house, my house, held a history of violence. I found a sense of serenity in the silence.

I walked through the house, touching each wall. I felt the familiar weight of responsibility, of making a home. I thought of the future.

The sun shone through the windows, illuminating dust motes. I looked at the rooms I'd made mine. They were filled with love now.