Gemotions

The dust motes danced in the late afternoon sunbeams slicing through the blinds. Sarah, lost in the stillness of her living room, found herself staring at the floorboards. She had scrubbed and polished them, trying to erase the ghost of what had happened. But it wouldn't go away.

The report, a dry recitation of facts, had felt surreal. A domestic dispute. A life extinguished. All of it occurred in this very space. The information clung to her, a suffocating presence. She hadn't bought a home, she had bought a tomb.

She had been so excited when she found the place. Now, the excitement had been replaced by a hollowness. The silence of the house, once comforting, now felt oppressive, as if the walls themselves were holding their breath. She hated the shadows. They seemed to lengthen and deepen, reminding her of the darkness that had once filled this space.