Gemotions

The polished wood of the dining table seemed to reflect the darkness inside him. Ben stared at the spot where the police had found the evidence. A family had lived here, now dead. He hated that.

He swept everything off the table: the expensive centerpiece, the pristine placemats, the crystal glasses. He wanted to break something, to obliterate the reminders of the crime. He wanted to break the past.

He grabbed a chair and slammed it against the wall. Wood splintered, paint cracked. He felt nothing but a hollow satisfaction. This house had stolen something. Now he would steal back.