Gemotions

The woman from the historical society, Mrs. Gable, was at the door, her voice a syrupy blend of pity and… something else. Amelia pulled the door closed just enough to see her face. "Such a shame," Mrs. Gable said. "The tragedy."

“I’m busy,” Amelia replied curtly, though the old woman's words had immediately unsettled her. She hated the way people looked at her now that they knew. The gossip, the whispers. And the house? She'd fallen in love with it the moment she walked through the front door.

She'd ignored the previous owner’s warnings about the 'unsettled energy.' This house was hers and she would continue to live in it. It was going to be her forever home. She planned on staying. She’d put up new curtains, bright ones, and plant sunflowers in the garden. She’d pretend it hadn't happened. She’d pretend it didn't matter.