Gemotions

He’d always felt a connection to the house. A pulse. Mark, a writer, had been struggling with writer's block for months. He couldn't string together a single paragraph. Now, standing in the dusty attic, holding the police report that detailed a murder, a curious sense of focus crashed over him.

His heart thumped a frantic rhythm. The air felt thick, charged with something unseen. A plot, previously elusive, began to coalesce in his mind. He envisioned the victim, the killer, the motive. He couldn’t wait to get to work.

He practically sprinted down the creaking stairs, already formulating his first sentence. Ideas flooded his brain, a relentless stream of inspiration that left him feeling alert and ready to seize the day.