Gemotions

He stared at the realtor, a woman who had, until five minutes ago, seemed so trustworthy. "You knew, didn't you?" Mark's voice was low, dangerous. He felt a tremor in his fingertips. The smile on her face had vanished. He picked up a delicate porcelain figurine from the mantelpiece, testing its weight in his hand. The polished wood of the floorboards reflected his furious expression. He wanted to break something, to shatter the illusion of peace the house had given him. He resisted the urge with a supreme effort.