Gemotions

The phone felt heavy in Claire’s hand as she hung up, the realtor's reassurances ringing hollow. The detective had been the opposite, matter of fact. "Arson… suicide… study." She stared at the fireplace in the study, now cold, and felt a wave of nausea. She had wanted a cozy, comfortable place, a place to heal.

She sat heavily in a chair, a sudden weariness washing over her. The house, which had seemed so promising, now felt like a shell, a haunted vessel. The shadows in the corners seemed to dance, whispering secrets. She had hoped for peace, but instead, she felt trapped.

She closed her eyes, trying to block out the images, the memories of the detective’s voice. She wished she had never bought the place. She was left feeling utterly devastated.