Gemotions

“And you… you bought this place?” The detective, a burly man with a salt-and-pepper beard, didn't bother to hide his surprise. His gaze roamed the meticulously organized garage, the gleaming tools hanging in perfect rows. Martha, usually so confident and in control, felt her face flush. Her carefully constructed facade, the image of a successful, put-together woman, crumbled under the weight of the revelation. Her voice was barely a whisper. She looked at her feet, noticing for the first time how shabby her shoes seemed.