Gemotions

He’d always been a man who did things his way, and this was no exception. When the detective, a young woman with tired eyes, tried to explain about the unsolved murder, Leo cut her off. “I bought the house,” he stated, his voice flat. “What happened before is of no consequence.”

The detective, clearly accustomed to being ignored, pressed on, mentioning potential evidence, lingering… unpleasantness. Leo gripped the worn wood of the kitchen table, his knuckles white. The detective's words felt like a physical intrusion.

He’d spent months saving, scraping together the down payment. He’d envisioned a quiet life, painting landscapes, free from the city’s clamor. This revelation… it was an unwanted complication. He wouldn't let some dead person ruin his peace. He would just… not acknowledge it. He'd put up a fence, a tall one, and focus on his art.