Gemotions

The aroma of freshly baked bread, usually a comfort, now felt cloying, suffocating. David sat at the kitchen table, the half-eaten loaf untouched before him. The detective’s disclosures had taken root within his psyche, poisoning his ability to find peace within his own home. He closed his eyes, his mind replaying the story. He felt a profound sense of loss, not just for the victim, but for the innocence he had once attributed to the house itself. The silence in the kitchen pressed down on him, amplifying the internal turmoil, the hollow ache.