Gemotions

The information, delivered in a bland, emotionless tone by the police, struck Clara like a physical blow. Her shoulders slumped. The house, her sanctuary, her refuge from the world, was a… a place of… The words wouldn't form. The image of the crime scene, sketched in cold, clinical detail, flashed behind her eyelids.

She felt a hot, burning sensation in her eyes, but she refused to cry. She’d spent months renovating, transforming the dilapidated house into something beautiful. Now, it felt soiled. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to ward off a sudden chill. The detective’s gaze was relentless, judgmental. She felt a potent need to get away, to escape the suffocating weight of this revelation.