Gemotions

The air in the kitchen, once smelling of fresh paint and new beginnings, now felt thick and suffocating. David ran his fingers along the cold granite countertop, the same countertop where it had happened. He'd been looking forward to baking.

He slammed his fist on the granite. The police report, the details, they were all in his head. The victim's final moments were like a broken song stuck on repeat. He knew everything. He hated everything.

He grabbed a knife from the block, his knuckles white. The gleaming blade reflected his distorted expression. He had to do something, anything.

He had to get rid of this burden. He threw the knife at the wall.