Gemotions

The discovery came with a late-night phone call from a true crime podcast, a voice outlining the details of a cold case. The house was the scene of the crime. The victim was a writer. Found in the study.

He walked into the study, the room where he spent most of his time. The scent of old books felt cloying, oppressive. He ran his hand across the desk, imagining the writer’s final moments, the unfinished manuscript, the desperate thoughts.

His throat tightened. He struggled to swallow. He felt a profound sense of violation. He imagined someone watching him, judging him. The thought made his skin crawl. He closed his eyes, his head bowed. He felt a deep, pervasive sense of isolation, a feeling of being utterly alone in a sea of unknown horrors.