Gemotions

The silence pressed down on him, a heavy weight. He hated the quiet of the empty house, the way it amplified his thoughts. He kept the television on, the constant chatter a feeble shield against the unseen. He felt the weight of the past here.

He caught himself staring at the walls, as if expecting the images of the crime to somehow bleed through. He scrubbed at a stain on the carpet, convinced it was blood, even though he knew it wasn't.

He considered inviting friends over, but the thought of explaining his unease felt embarrassing. He was alone with the history. He started looking for a new place.