Gemotions

The real estate agent, bless her heart, had been gushing. “Charming! Quaint! A real steal!” Now, standing in her immaculate, newly painted kitchen, Sarah felt a tightening in her chest. A police officer had just casually mentioned, with a dismissive wave of his hand, "Oh yeah, that's where the Jenkins case went down." The Jenkins case. The one where old Mr. Jenkins had…well, she didn’t need the details. She’d seen the yellow tape on the news. She cleared her throat, forcing a smile that felt brittle.

Sarah excused herself to the powder room, the floral wallpaper suddenly cloying. She ran cold water on her wrists, then splashed it on her face. Her reflection in the mirror seemed foreign, her cheeks flushed, her eyes blazing. She’d spent weeks agonizing over the placement of the spice rack, the perfect shade of off-white. And now? Her home was a…a crime scene.

She marched back into the kitchen, the agent still rattling on about the neighborhood association. "So, the previous owners..." Sarah interrupted, her voice sharper than intended. "Did they at least get a discount?"