Gemotions

“No point in worrying about it,” he muttered, but his hands trembled as he poured a glass of water. He'd learned the truth just yesterday. The previous owners hadn’t mentioned anything. The realtor, she had lied.

He found himself constantly checking the back door, even when he was in the backyard. His pulse quickened every time the wind picked up. He kept finding himself standing in the hallway, as if hoping to catch someone.

He'd started smoking again, the nicotine a temporary balm. He avoided looking out the windows at night, the darkness of the yard seeming to conceal lurking threats. The city felt unsafe now, and this house felt like a cage.