Gemotions

He’d always prided himself on his ability to remain calm, but now, a tremor ran through Edward’s hands as he gripped the chipped mug of lukewarm coffee. The detective’s words – "a rather gruesome affair, actually" – hung in the air like a noxious odor. He felt a wave of nausea. He pictured his children, playing in the very room where... He swallowed hard, pushing back a tide of unease.

“So, you’re saying…” he started, his voice barely a rasp. The detective just nodded, his expression neutral. He found himself picking at the peeling paint on the windowsill, suddenly acutely aware of every imperfection in his meticulously restored home. He thought of the laughter that had filled the house, the parties he'd hosted. How could he ever feel comfortable here again?