Gemotions

The morning sun, usually a welcome guest, felt like a spotlight aimed directly at Amelia’s eyelids. Stretching, a monumental effort, she peeled herself from the rumpled sheets. The thought of coffee was enticing, but the trek to the kitchen felt like traversing a vast tundra. She decided to postpone the caffeine fix, settling instead for another twenty minutes of horizontal contemplation.

A week ago, the new house had seemed like a dream. Now, looking at the unopened boxes stacked in the hallway, the dream felt… heavy. The realtor’s email, innocently titled "Important Property Information," lay unread in her inbox, a digital burden she’d mentally shrugged off.

Later, the siren song of the couch finally won. She half-heartedly scrolled through the news, barely registering the headlines. An old crime story, vaguely familiar, flashed across the screen. A headline about a cold case – a murder. Something about a house… a house that looked exactly like hers. She clicked on it, curiosity piqued, but quickly found herself more drawn to the soft curves of her overstuffed chair. The investigation would have to wait.