Gemotions

Liam bounced on the balls of his feet, whistling a cheerful melody as he navigated the narrow hallway. His new home, a Victorian with intricate woodwork and a wrap-around porch, felt like a warm embrace. He couldn't stop smiling. The previous owners had left a collection of antique books, and he’d spent the morning losing himself in a leather-bound volume of poetry.

He twirled around, his arms outstretched, as he took in the familiar surroundings. This place was perfect. It felt like home. A gruff voice interrupted his musings. "Mr. Peterson?" a man in a dark suit asked, his expression grim. "We need to discuss something about the history of this property."