Gemotions

He walked the perimeter of the property, the late afternoon sun casting long, elongated shadows. The realtor's casual mention, a quick, dismissive aside, had shattered his sense of security. "Historical events," he had called it. The fact: a murder.

Robert pulled at the collar of his shirt, the fabric suddenly feeling too tight. The air felt heavy, stagnant. He pictured the scene, a brutal struggle, a life extinguished. The house, his sanctuary, now seemed haunted.

He looked at the roofline, the windows, everything he had thought would be a dream. Now, his dreams felt fragile, threatened. He wandered back inside, the silence of the house pressing down on him. The laughter of his family, usually a source of joy, now felt like a faint echo in a vast, empty space.