Gemotions

He paced the living room, hands shoved deep in his pockets. The detective's voice echoed in his head, a monotone recitation of facts. *Two bodies. One witness. Unsolved.* He felt a pressure building behind his eyes, a headache blooming.

The floorboards groaned under his weight, a sound that now filled him with dread. He had been so proud of finding a place with original wood flooring. Now, he felt he was treading on a tomb. He replayed the detective's words, the careful phrasing, the implication of violence.

He slammed his fist on the mantelpiece, startling himself. The antique clock chimed, the sound sharp and invasive. He hated the silence of the house, but the radio only amplified his paranoia. He considered calling his wife, but the fear of sounding absurd stopped him.