Gemotions

The aroma of freshly baked bread from his own kitchen was completely overshadowed by the pungent smell of fresh paint and wood-stain that was wafting from next door. Michael paused, his hand still on the oven door. He had known Mr. and Mrs. Schmidt for years. They always seemed so happy.

He went to the window to look, but the blinds were drawn. His chest felt tight.

He opened the blinds a crack and peeked out. The house was unrecognizable, all painted white with stark, black trim. He didn’t understand any of it. He took a deep breath, and slammed the door shut.