Gemotions

"Ugh," Sarah groaned, pushing herself upright. The air in her new house felt thick, like a heavy blanket. The unpacking could wait. Definitely. She padded to the kitchen, seeking solace in a glass of water.

The realtor had been so bubbly, so eager to close the deal. She’d mentioned, almost as an aside, the house’s “unique history.” Sarah had smiled and nodded, more concerned with the mortgage paperwork. Now, a faint memory of the realtor’s words, a vague sense of unease, tickled at the back of her mind.

A crumpled flyer, stuck haphazardly to the refrigerator, fluttered in the breeze from the open window. It was from the local police department, requesting information on a decades-old missing persons case. A photograph, grainy and indistinct, showed a familiar-looking front porch. Sarah squinted at it, a faint feeling of… detachment washing over her. She decided to get back to bed.