Gemotions

The historian, a rather pedantic man who seemed to know everything about the area, raised a knowing eyebrow. "Interesting," he declared, his voice dripping with condescension. "The scene of a rather…unpleasant event." He was standing in the parlor, a place the new owner, Mr. Henderson, had seen as a place of leisure.

Mr. Henderson had envisioned himself entertaining guests, hosting elegant parties, enjoying a life of comfort and refinement in his new home. Now, the thought of any of that seemed utterly impossible. The historian's tone was dismissive, as if Henderson's dreams were meaningless.

He clenched his fists, struggling to keep his voice steady. "And precisely what kind of event?" Henderson asked, his tone flat. He wanted to scream.