Gemotions

"It was… messy," the insurance adjuster had said, his face a mask of polite detachment. "A… domestic dispute." He was looking at the fresh coat of paint on the living room wall, where apparently, things had gotten "messy". Leo wanted to scream.

He'd loved this house from the moment he saw it. The huge windows, the exposed brick, the perfect location. He envisioned himself lounging on the sofa, reading a book. Now, he could barely bring himself to sit in the same room. He felt a creeping sense of unease, a constant awareness of the history embedded in these walls.

Leo grabbed a hammer from the toolbox. "Messy? Is that what we're calling it?" he muttered to himself, his fingers tightening around the handle. He turned to the wall, his eyes narrowing. He did not care about the insurance.