Gemotions

Eliza kicked at a fallen leaf, its dry husk skittering across the cracked pavement. Everything annoyed her today: the screech of the bus brakes, the overly cheerful barista, the endless construction noise outside her bedroom window. She had a headache, a tight band of pressure that squeezed her temples. Then the letter arrived, thick and official.

The letter detailed it. Years ago, the house, a charming Victorian, had been the site of a brutal crime. The information, laid out in cold, clinical prose, was both fascinating and unsettling. Eliza felt a chill despite the warmth of the late summer sun. She thought of the renovations she had planned, ripping up the old floorboards. A sour taste coated the back of her throat.